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THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 



^V><^o. 



THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 



BV 



WILLIAM CHANDLER BAGLEY 

(Ph.D., Cornell) " 
professor of education, university of illinois; formerly 
vice-president and director of training, 
montana state normal college 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., Ltd. 
I912 

Ail rights reserved 



v*^^ 






Copyright, 1905, 
By the macmillan company. 

Set up and electrotyped. Published June, 1905. Reprinted 
March, 1906; Januar\-. AuRust, October, 1907 ; February, 
' September, December, 1908; January, June, 1910; January, 
1913. 






Novwood Press 

y. S. Cushing & Co. — Berwick fif Smith &, 

Norwood y Mass.g U.S.A. 



PREFACE 

The following account of the Educative Process is 
intended to present a systematic and comprehensive 
view of the task that is to be accomplished by the 
school. It covers the field commonly included under 
the terms, " General Method," " Method of the Recita- 
tion," "Theory and Practice," etc.; but it deals with 
principles rather than with the details of device and / 
"method." The writer is convinced that clear and 
definite notions of the functions of education and of 
the laws which govern the educative process will do 
much toward eliminating the waste of time and energy 
that is involved in the work of the school. It is' not to 
be expected that the young teacher, even though he 
be equipped with the best of theory, will prosecute his 
work with maximal success from the very start. Skill 
in teaching, like skill in any other art, can come 
only through persistent practice, coupled with seriou 
study and strenuous self -discipline. But self-discipl.'- 
reaches up to ideals for control and guidance ; and \ 
the least important element in the formation of eff t 
tive ideals is substantial theory. Theory may wcj 
provide a light for the beginner's first steps, makin 



VI PREFACE 

them less awkward, less incoordinate, than they would 
be in its absence. Even the work of the experienced 
teacher, although superficially efficient, may sometimes 
subvert one or more of the basal principles of the 
educative process; and it is precisely at these points 
that an adequate conception of principles, based on 
the best data that science can offer, must be added to 
SL mastery of technique. 

\Consistently with this view, the principles presented 
in th^ following pages are those that the writer be- 
lieves to\be indispensable in the construction of effective 
ideals of iieaching, using the term " ideals " in the sense 
in which it is employed in Chapters XIII and XIV of 
this book.\ Care has also been taken to utilize only 
those data (>i psychology and biology that are vouched 
for by reputable modern authorities in these fields. In 
the case of neai-ly every principle presented, the source 
from which it has been derived is indicated by title and 
)age-references, sometimes to the monographic litera- 
ure, but, wherever possible, to treatises and text-books 
hat are available both to students of education in the 
lormal school, and university and to those engaged in 
he actual work of teaching who have access to a 
neral library. 

Aside from the various specific sources which are thus 

iica'id in detail in the footnotes, the writer wishes 

,.• ^t'knowledge an indebtedness of a more general 

g\racter to the following works : Mr. L. T. Hobhouse's 



PREFACE Vll 

" Mind in Evolution," Professor E. B. Titchener's 
" Primer of Psychology " and " Outline of Psychology," 
and President G. Stanley Hall's illuminating paper, 
" The Ideal School," which foreshadowed his recently 
published treatise, "Adolescence." 

The book has been read in manuscript by Professor 
M. V. O'Shea of the University of Wisconsin, and by 
Professors E. B. Titchener, Charles De Garmo, and 
G. M. Whipple of Cornell University, to each of whom 
the writer's gratitude is due for many valuable criti- 
cisms and suggestions. He also acknowledges the in- 
valuable service rendered by his colleagues. Dr. Carrie 
Ranson Squire and Professor W. C. Ruediger, in for- 
mulating many of the principles here presented; and 
by his wife, Florence Winger Bagley, in the patient 
and helpful criticism which her sympathetic insight 
and psychological training enabled her to bring to the 
improvement of the work. 



WILLIAM CHANDLER BAGLEY. 



State Normal College, 

Dillon, Montana, 

June, 1905. 



ANALYTICAL TABLE OF CONTENTS XVU 



velopment and instruction compared as to advantages and 
limitations. 3. The field of each in the educative process; 
many facts must be presented by method of instruction. 4. In 
imparting principles based on facts, the method of development 
is more frequently to be employed; in general, the rights of 
generalization and inference belong to the individual. 5. But 
this principle must be qualified. 6. Summary .... 25^ 

CHAPTER XVIII 

.The Media of Instruction 

Qassification of media of instruction. 2. (o) Language as the 
most efficient medium; reasons for efficiency of language; factors 
conditioning this efficiency. 3. Oral versus book instruction; 
advantages and limitations of each. 4. Lecture versus question- 
and-answer methods. 5. Relative values of different methods 
of book instruction : sources versus text-books. 6. (3) Graphic 
representation as a medium of instruction : pictures, models, 
maps, and diagrams; principles governing successful use of 
these media in the educative process. 7. The media of emo- 
tional transmission; distinction between emotional and intel- 
lectual experiences. 8. Emotional experiences function (a) as 
essential ingredients of ideals, {b) as the fundamental essences 
of the sentiments; illustrations from teaching of art. 9. The 
function of art in the educative process 265 

CHAPTER XIX 

Typical Forms of Development and Instruction: 
(a) The Inductive Development Lesson 

Qassification of school exercises as to structure. 2. The two 
types of development lesson : (a) inductive and (3) deductive. 
3. The inductive development lesson; history and present 
status of the "formal steps." 4. (l) The step of preparation; 
function; method; time element; illustrations. 5. {la) The 
statement of the aim; function; characteristics of an effective 
aim; illustrations. 6. (2) The step of presentation; function; 
varieties; time element; illustrations. 7. (3) The step of 
comparison and abstraction; function; method; time element; 



XVUl ANALYTICAL TABLE OF CONTENTS 



illustrations. 8. (4) The step of generalization; function; 
form; time element; illustrations. 9. (5) The step of applica- 
tion; function; time element; illustrations. 10. The inductive 
development lesson is an organic unity. 1 1. All school exercises 
cannot be cast in this mold 284 



CHAPTER XX 

Typical Forms of Development and Instruction: 
(^) The Deductive Development Lesson 

Nature of the deductive development lesson; its two functions : 
(a) anticipation of truth, {b') explanation of facts. 2. This 
type of lesson has not been generally reduced to formal steps, 
but is frequently represented in the school. 3. Advantages of 
deductive development. 4. Two types of deductive lessons, 
corresponding to the two functions; in both types deductive 
lesson covers four steps: (i) the data, (2) the principles, 
(3) the inference, (4) the verification; illustrations of these 
steps in anticipatory lessons. 5. Explanatory lessons; their 
function; illustrations. 6. Field of application of the develop- 
ment lesson in the educative process ...,*, 305 

CHAPTER XXI 

Typical Forms of Development and Instruction: 
{c) The Study and (</) the Recitation Lesson 

Nature and varieties of the study lesson. 2. Function of the 
study lesson. 3. Phases of the study lesson: (i) the assign- 
ment; nature of the assignment; principles governing its eflE- 
ciency; illustrations. 4. (2) The seat work; significance of 
seat work as a source of waste. 5. Blackboard questions for 
guidance in seat work. 6. Topical outlines to replace questions. 
7. Development of art of outlining in pupils. 8. The recitation 
lesson; functions and varieties. 9. Distinction between question- 
and-answer and topical recitations; nature of (i) the question- 
and-answer recitation. 10. The art of questioning. 11. (2) The 
topical recitation; nature, functions, and development of the 
topical recitation • . • 3^^ 



ANALYTICAL TABLE OF CONTENTS XIX 



CHAPTER XXII 

TypicAL Forms of Development and Instruction: 

(/) The Drill, (/) the Review, and (g) the 

Examination Lessons 

FACB 

I. Function of the drill lesson; its technique governed by the law 
of habit building. 2. Necessity of focalization in drill; illus- 
trations from school exercises. 3. Devices to secure focaliza- 
tion; dangers involved in use of devices. 4. The two functions 
of the review lesson. 5. Organization as the keynote of the 
review lesson. 6. Technique of the review lesson. 7, The 
examination as the capstone of the review process; the essence 
of an examination is its formal character; organization the 
ultimate end of the examination 328 

CHAPTER XXIII 

The Hygiene of the Educative Process 

I. Education an artificial process; demands a readjustment to which 
physical structure is not naturally adapted. 2. Abnormal con- 
ditions imposed by the educative process: {a) indoor life, 
(^) fine adjustments, (<:) active attention. 3. (i) The hygiene 
ot instruction : conditions of light, temperature, ventilation, 
fatigue, and cheerfulness. 4. (2) Hygienic habits and ideals; 
duty of the school in development of these; fallacy of the 
dictum, " Follow nature." 5. Hygienic habits must be empha- 
sized in the pre -adolescent period. 6. Hygienic ideals must be 
emphasized in the adolescent period 335 

Index 351 



THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 



PART I. FUNCTIONS OF EDUCATION 

CHAPTER I 

Education reduced to its Lowest Terms 

I. As with all the activities and interests that are 
fostered by modem civilization, the forces of education 
have reached a stage of very elaborate specialization 
and organization. From the kindergarten to the uni- 
versity, each period of development is catered to by 
a specific kind of education, with its specific aims and 
ends, its specific standards and ideals, its specific meth- 
ods and devices. And cutting across these planes of 
cleavage, which represent the varying needs of the 
individual at successive levels of his growth, are the 
almost numberless sciences and disciphnes, each with 
its own vocabulary, its own technique, its own specific 
function. Not only is the teacher a specialist in edu- 
cation, but he is perforce a specialist in one department 
ol education as distinguished from other departments. 
And not only this, but he is frequently a speciahst in 
one narrow field of a single department as distinguished 
from the remaining fields. 



2 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

In spite of its many advantages, this condition brings 
with it a very serious diflficulty; for while, generally 
speaking, organization means efficiency, it is none the 
less true that organization means complexity, and that 
a complex structure is hard to understand. The lay- 
man sees in education a vague, undifferentiated whole; 
but the novitiate, as his acquaintance continues, watches 
this whole split up into a myriad of separate parts. 
For a long time he is troubled by the lack of orderly 
arrangement, by the seeming neglect of logical con- 
tinuity and system. He sees a vast, noisy machine, the 
various parts of which appear to work with little refer- 
ence to the needs and nature of the whole; not a co- 
ordinated system of interacting elements, but a mere 
aggregation of independent units. 

The initial study of any compUcated structure in- 
volves a similar difficulty. It required thousands of 
years for science to discover the order and system that 
govern the organic world, — to "strip the mask from 
things." The serious student of nature from the very 
first has been baffled by the multiphcity of living forms, 
the diversity and seeming independence of species and 
genera, the unceasing strife and struggle for supremacy, 
and the resulting waste of time and energy. Yet we 
now know that each of these factors has its peculiar 
significance in the complicated scheme of fife. Where 
once the massing of seemingly disconnected units con- 
fused and baffled us, we see to-day the harmonious 



EDUCATION REDUCED TO ITS LOWEST TERMS 3 

cooperation of all these factors toward a definite end. 
The forces that appeared to be independent are now 
seen to be interdependent, and what looked to be the 
utter neglect or absence of relation is now revealed as 
the very apotheosis of system and order. The organic 
world has been reduced to its lowest terms, and the 
apparent antithesis of diverse forms and forces has 
melted away under the new Hght. 

In the study of the concrete problems of education, 
we need a guiding principle; we need a formula that 
will cover every case that is presented; we need to 
know what education means in its simplest terms. 
Having such a principle, we shall have a basis for in- 
terpretation, — a criterion, perhaps, for approval or con- 
demnation. Lacking such a principle, our results will 
be the merest empiricisms, valuable it may be as sepa- 
rate facts, but totally inadequate to the needs of con- 
structive effort. It is the purpose of this chapter to 
attempt the formulation of such a principle. 

2. Fundamentally the possibiHty of education de- 
pends upon the capacity^ of the organism to profit by 
past experiences. In one way or another the facing 
of past situations comes to modify present and future 
adjustment. Education- in its broadest sense means just 
this: acquiring experiences that wiU serve to modify 
inherited adjustments. 

3. In order to understand the fundamental signifi- 
cance of this principle, we must know that the capacity 



4 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

to profit by past experience is limited to a compara- 
tively few forms of life. In the lower animals, reaction 
or adjustment is fixed and uniform. It varies only 
with the nature of the stimulus and not with the re- 
sults of previous reactions to similar stimuli, — only 
with the nature of the environment and not with the 
results of previous adjustments to similar environments. 
A certain situation "sets off" a certain fixed, unvary- 
ing reaction. No matter if that reaction has resulted 
disastrously in previous instances, the same stimulus 
will again initiate it; there will be no improvement in 
adjustment even after repeated trials. The classic 
instance of the moth and the flame is a case in point. 
The light impressions "set off" the muscular reactions 
that carry the moth to the flame. Its wings are scorched 
and it retreats, — adjustments resulting in the retreating 
movement having been set off by the effect of the scorch- 
ing upon the nerve endings. But let the light again 
impinge upon the sense organs of sight, and the forward 
movement will again be initiated, — to be repeated, no 
matter how frequently the scorching may occur, until the 
stimulus is either withdrawn or replaced by another more 
compelling, or until the moth is disabled or consumed. 
The inborn tendencies to response are termed either 
re^exes or instinctive movements, according as they 
are simple or complex. Each follows upon its appropri- 
ate stimulus as mechanically as the ringing of an electric 
bell follows upon the pressing of the button. 



EDUCATION REDUCED TO ITS LOWEST TERMS 5 

4. Reflexes and instinctive movements must be looked 
upon as products of heredity. The connections in the 
nervous system upon which they depend are provided 
for in the development of the embryo just as are the 
connections between the limbs and the trunk or between 
the blood vessels and the various organs. To their gene- 
sis, too, must be applied the same explanation. How 
did it come about in the first place that the moth responded 
in one way to light impressions and in another way to 
impressions of scorching or pain? One might similarly 
ask. How did it come about that the original moth (if 
one may use the term) had wings and legs, a head, a 
thorax, and an abdomen? In the light of our present 
knowledge, we can only say that all these determinations 
of anatomical structure (and nerve structure is anatomi- 
cal structure) have resulted through the operation of 
natural selection upon chance variations. All organ- 
isms tend to vary, — to deviate in one respect or an- 
other from the "normal" or average type. One may 
have a slightly longer body, another may vary slightly 
in coloring or markings, another in strength, another 
in speed, and so on. Where the variation is helpful in 
the struggle for life, the organism possessing it has an 
advantage over the organisms that lack it. Conse- 
quently the chances that the favored organism will sur- 
vive and perpetuate its species are increased. Of its 
progeny, some are Hkely to vary still farther in the right 
direction and so on, perhaps indefinitely. If, on the 



6 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

other hand, the organism is a variant in an unfavorable 
direction, it will be placed at a disadvantage in the struggle 
for existence, and the chances of its ehmination and the 
consequent cutting off of its line of descent are thereby 
increased. It is through this factor of "natural selec- 
tion" that the origin of specific characters among organic 
beings can be most satisfactorily explained, and it is to 
this factor that one must look for an explanation of the 
origin and development of those connections in nerve tissue 
that lie at the basis of reflex and instinctive movements.^ 
5. Whatever theory may be called upon to explain the 
origin of instinct, however, there can be no doubt that 
a large number of animals are entirely dependent upon 
instinctive reactions for adjustment to the environment. 

1 It is true that the genesis of instinct presents certain difficulties to 
this explanation. According to the traditional view, natural selection 
works only upon slight variations, each of which must contribute definitely 
to the survival value of the organism. While it is easy to see that each 
slight change in the right direction may have been useful in the develop- 
ment, say, of the horse's hoof, it is not so easy to see how all the inter- 
mediate links could have been similarly useful in the development of a 
complex instinct like the nest-building instincts of some of the birds. 
Darwin recognized this difficulty and attempted, although not very sat- 
isfactorily, to surmount it. (See Origin of Species, vol. i, ch. viii.) 
Romanes {Heredity and Utility, Chicago, 1896, p. 87) prefers to discard 
the principle of natural selection in the case of instinct, and to look upon 
instinctive adjustments as inherited habits. Baldwin (^Development and 
Evolution, New York, 1903, ch. v) disapproves of Romanes's position 
because it assumes the inheritance of characteristics acquired during the 
life of the individual. He prefers to think of the slight changes essential 
to the development of the full-fledged instinct as " kept alive " either by 
intelligence or by " imitation." This view is also open to objection, for it 
assumes that mind or consciousness existed prior to instinct. In fact, the 
explanation of instinct by the principle of natural selection seems to be an 



EDUCATION REDUCED TO ITS LOWEST TERMS / 

Reaction with them is purely mechanical, the same stim- 
ulus or combination of stimuH uniformly giving rise to 
the same adjustment. Such animals are not able to 
apply experience to the improvement of adjustment, 
and are consequently not amenable to the influences 
of education. At just what point in the animal series 
the lower Hmit of educabihty is to be placed is still a matter 
of dispute, but it is generally conceded that the mammals, 
the birds, and at least some of the fishes are able to profit 
by experience in varying degrees, while the invertebrates 
and the primitive protozoa probably lack this capacity. 
Some authorities are inchned to exclude the higher inver- 
tebrates, especially the ants, bees, and wasps, from the 
latter class, but there is a marked tendency to look upon 
even the complex activities of these forms as products 
of pure instinct.^ In general, then, it may be concluded 

almost hopeless task so long as one maintains that anatomical structures 
must be developed through a long series of gradual changes. Very re- 
cently it has been discovered, however, that very pronounced variations 
are not entirely lost to posterity, but reappear in a definite proportion of 
the progeny. This discovery, if generally substantiated, will undoubtedly 
do much toward clearing away these difficulties, (See H, de Vries: 
Species and Varieties, Chicago, 1904.) 

^ For example, A. Bethe : Diirfen wir den Ameisen und Bienen psy- 
chische Qualit'dten zuschreiben? in Pflueger's Archiv, 1898, H. S. Jen- 
nings ( Contributions to the Study of the Behavior of Lower Organisms^ 
Washington, 1904) maintains, however, that, even in very primitive ani- 
mal forms, reaction varies with experience. (See a brief critique of 
Jennings's theory by J, B. Watson, in Psychological Bulletin, 1905, vol, 
ii, pp, 144 ff,) R. Pearl (^Journal of Comparative Neurology and Psy- 
chology, 1904, vol, xiv, pp. 138 ff.) also believes that adjustment in some 
forms improves with practice; the machine "works better"; but, he 
maintains, no psychical element is needed to explain this. 



8 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

that educability, meaning by that term the capacity to 
profit by individual experience, is limited to the verte- 
brates (and possibly the highly organized invertebrates), 
and is most pronounced in man and his nearest relatives in 
the animal kingdom, — the lemurs, monkeys, and anthro- 
poid apes, — together with the animals that man has 
been able to train for his own service, particularly the 
horse, the dog, and the elephant. 

6. But while man shares with some of the higher ver- 
tebrates the capacity for education, there is one point 
in which his position is practically unique. Man must 
be subjected to an educative process before he can com- 
plete his development, and this is true in like degree of 
none of the lower orders. In one sense it is not so much 
the capacity for education as the necessity of education 
that differentiates man from the lower animals. 

The moment that the moth emerges from its pupa stage 
it assumes all the functions of an adult member of its 
species. It does not have to be taught where and how 
to procure its food; it does not have to be taught where 
and how to secure shelter or protection against the ele- 
ments; it does not have to be taught where and how to 
lay its eggs and provide for its young. If it does these 
things, it does them by instinct — by the innate ten- 
dencies of the nervous system to react to definite situa- 
tions in a definite manner. Two essential points are to 
be noted in this connection: the moth can develop into 
a mature insect without the presence or aid of other 



EDUCATION REDUCED TO ITS LOWEST TERMS 9 

insects; furthermore, it can develop into just as good a 
moth as either of its parents. Man, on the other hand, 
comes into the world immature; only a very few of the 
functions of complete development are present at birth. 
Certain functions, as, for example, nutrition, are opera- 
tive from the first, and these are based entirely upon in- 
stinct. The infant possesses a nervous mechanism that 
will respond appropriately to certain stimuU immediately 
after birth. But the instincts that are operative in the 
infant are obviously much less efficient than those of the 
lower forms. Even possessing them the infant is a help- 
less and dependent creature. 

Nor is this all. Suppose that a method were devised 
by means of which food and shelter could be provided 
mechanically and the infant left to develop into indepen- 
dent maturity without the aid of parents or other human 
beings. There is no need to make such an experiment, 
for the results would be obvious from the outset. The 
moth is "bom" just as good a moth as either of its par- 
ents. But the infant, even if he could reach maturity 
without the aid of other human beings, would certainly 
not be so good a man as his father. What he would 
lack are the great essentials of human life that are trans- 
mitted, not directly through the germ cell, but indirectly 
by social contact, — culture, " education," and civilized 
habits. Professor Baldwin^ has termed this factor 

^ J. M. Baldwin: Development and Evolution, pp. 53-54; »lso 
pp. 103 fif. 



10 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

"social heredity" in contradistinction to physical heredity 
or physical transmission. 

7. It is generally agreed among biologists that the me- 
chanical agency for the transmission of life from parent 
to offspring is not affected in a significant degree by the 
experience of the parent. That is, characteristics that 
are acquired during the life of an organism — even before 
it produces offspring — are not transmitted through 
the germ cell (the ovum of the female or the sperma- 
tozoon of the male) to the offspring. This principle of 
the non-transmission of acquired characteristics has not 
been indisputably estabhshed as yet, but that it holds 
good in the main no one apparently is ready to deny. 
We may therefore build upon it so far as education is 
concerned, confident that the objections to its rigid appli- 
cation, even if they be sustained, will not affect the validity 
of our deductions. 

The question of the transmissibility of acquired character- 
istics forms the dividing line between two contemporary schools 
of evolutionists. The neo-Darwinians contend that acquired 
characteristics are never transmitted, while the neo-Lamarckians 
maintain that acquired characteristics may be transmitted under 
certain conditions. A great deal of evidence has been brought 
forth by both parties to the controversy, but perhaps the most 
important arguments are these : — 

I. In favor of transmission. 

{a) One of the most important evidences of evolution is 
the picture of growth and development that is revealed by the 
fossil remains of plant and animal life found in different geologi- 
cal strata. These remains present a serial progression which. 



EDUCATION REDUCED TO ITS LOWEST TERMS II 

in some cases, can be actually reproduced by specimens.^ The 
neo-Lamarckians argue from this orderly progression that the 
variations appear in a definite direction.^ This would seem to 
indicate that the factor of use or function must have some effect 
upon inheritance ; for, they say, if the variations were promis- 
cuous or accidental, as the neo-Darwinian maintains, we should 
find among the fossil remains a large number of forms varying 
from the normal type, some in one direction, some in another, 
above and beyond those that form the true serial Hne of descent. 
That is, in order to account for the chance production of a 
given useful organ, one would have to believe upon the neo- 
Darwinian hypothesis that thousands, if not millions, of unfit 
variations were produced. But, the neo-Lamarckian objects, 
the fossil beds fail to reveal the remains of these forms as they 
should had such forms ever existed. Hence the gradual im- 
provement in the adaptation of a series of forms must be 
explained upon the supposition that, through " use " during 
the life of the individual, the fit characters became firmly fixed 
and were then transmitted in a more or less perfect condition 
to the offspring. Hence the phrase, "use inheritance," as 
applied to the neo-Lamarckian position. 

{b) Apart from this deductive argument, factual evidence 
has been brought forward attempting to show by concrete 
cases : (i) that variations due to mechanical causes have been 
inherited; (2) that changes due to nutrition in the parent 
have been inherited; (3) that characteristics developed by 
the exercise of function have appeared more fully developed 
in the offspring than they originally appeared in the parent ; 

(4) that organs transformed through disease in the parent 
have been transmitted in their new form to the offspring; 

(5) that well-authenticated cases of the transmission of mutila- 

1 For example, the phylogeny of the horse; see E. D. Cope: Primary 
Factors of Organic Evolution, Chicago, 1 896, pp. 1 46- 1 50. 
* Cope, oJ>, cit., p. 13. 



12 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

tions are on record ; and (6) that changes in environment pro- 
duce changes in bodily characteristics that are transmitted to 
the offspring.^ 

2. Against transmission. 

(a) The Lamarckian factor of " use inheritance " was not 
seriously questioned by biologists prior to 1883. Darwin ^ had 
assumed the inheritance of acquired characters, but had con- 
structed his theory quite independently of its implications. 
Spencer assumed use inheritance throughout his " Principles of 
Biology," and remained to the last an active opponent of the 
neo-Darwinian hypothesis. In the year named, however, 
August Weismann asserted that the inheritance of acquired 
characters was, in the higher animals at least, a physiological 
impossibility. He based his statement upon the discovery that 
had recently been made in the field of embryology, relative to 
the " continuity of the germinal protoplasm." It is now a 
well-known fact that the cells concerned with reproduction are 
differentiated and separated from the other cellular elements 
of the body (the somatic cells) immediately upon the segmen- 
tation of the fertilized ovum. Hence the reproductive cells 
are removed from the influence of those forces that modify the 
somatic cells. Further circumstances during life cannot directly 
or definitely affect them ; they are amenable only to general 
influences, such as nutrition.^ 

{d) The different lines of factual evidence brought forth by 
the neo- Lamarckian, and noted above, are controverted in 
various ways by the neo-Darwinian. He will say, for example, 
that in the great majority of cases mutilations are not trans- 

* For a full discussion of this evidence, see Cope, 0/. cit., ch. viii. 

' Origin 0/ Species, vol. i, ch. i, " As far as I am able to judge, . . . the 
conditions of life appear to act in two ways, — directly on the whole organi- 
zation or on certain parts alone, and indirectly by afiecting the reproductive 
system." 

•A. Weismann: Tie Germ Plasm, New York, 1893; Forir^gr Oief 
die Deszendenaiheorie, Jena, 1904. 



EDUCATION REDUCED TO ITS LOWEST TERMS 1 3 

mitted.^ The same is true of variations due to mechanical 
causes.^ The influences of nutrition and disease, on the other 
hand, are to be classed among the general influences from which 
the germinal protoplasm is not free. Variations that are thought 
to be due to geographical conditions would certainly appear in 
the offspring as well as in the parent as long as the offspring 
lived under similar conditions.^ 

Now if an organism has no means of transmitting 
its acquired characteristics — the products of its expe- 
rience — to its offspring, any improvement that the off- 
spring may make over the condition of its parents will 
depend upon one or both of two factors: (a) the influ- 
ence of a more favorable environment in which the 
various functions will work together to better advan- 
tage; or (6) the environment remaining the same, a 
variation that permits in the offspring a more effi- 
cient adaptation than was possible in either of the 
parents. 

8. Such are the general conditions of progress in all 
the lower forms of life. But the non-transmission of 
acquired characters through the germ cell does not pre- 
clude all possibihty of transmitting from generation to 
generation the products of experience. It only pre- 

1 The well known fact that the "docking" of the tails of sheep for sev- 
eral centuries has never produced a variety of tailless sheep is frequently 
cited. 

2 " The feet of the Chinese do not indicate that their long habit of 
compression has yet produced any hereditary results." — Edith E. Wood : 
Noies on Oriental Babies, in American Anthropologist, 1903, vol. v, no. 4. 

8 See also W. K. Brooks: Foundations of Zoology, 'ii&v York, 1899, 
lectures iv and v. 



14 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

eludes such transmission through a certain channel. 
For animals that come to independent maturity imme- 
diately after birth, all other channels of progress are 
closed. For animals, however, that are cared for dur- 
ing a longer or shorter period of dependence, the pos- 
sibility of utiUzing the experience of the parent and thus 
of advancing beyond the condition which the parent rep- 
resents is still open. While it is undoubtedly true that 
some of the higher forms below man train their young 
during a plastic period of infancy, it is not altogether 
clear that this training forms an appreciable advance 
over the transmission of characters through physical 
heredity. That is to say, the training in itself is largely 
instinctive, following the same plan generation after gen- 
eration, and influenced very Httle, if at all, by the expe- 
rience of the parent. And at the very best, of course, 
the possibility of transmitting experience is, in animals 
below man, greatly curtailed by the lack of an efl&cient 
medium of communication. 

It is clear, then, that man's supremacy in the animal 
series is due to his abiUty to profit, not only by his own 
experiences, but also by the experiences of others. Not 
only is this true, but it is also not to be doubted that, 
without this twofold capacity, man would be far below 
many other vertebrates and would be placed at a tre- 
mendous disadvantage in the struggle for existence. 
) "Every child is born destitute of things possessed in 
manhood which distinguish him from the lower animals. 



EDUCATION REDUCED TO ITS LOWEST TERMS 1 5 

Of all industries he is artless; of all institutions he is 
lawless; of all languages he is speechless; of all philos- 
ophies he is opinionless; of all reasoning he is thought- 
less; but arts, institutions, languages, opinions, and men- 
tations he acquires as years go by from childhood to 
manhood. In all these respects the new-bom babe 
is hardly the peer of the new-bom beast; but, as the 
years pass, ever and ever he exhibits his superiority in 
all the great classes of activities until the distance by 
which he is separated from the brute is so great that 
his realm of existence is in another kingdom of nature." ^ 

9. In order still more forcibly to emphasize the fun- 
damental importance of the educative process in human 
life, it will be profitable to compare man's chances for 
progress with those of the lower animals. 

(a) It has been noted above that, leaving out the fac- 
tor of experience, any improvement that an organism 
may make over the condition of its predecessors will 
depend on either (i) the influence of a more favorable 
environment in which the various functions will work 
together more harmoniously, or (2), the environment 
remaining the same, a variation that permits in the 
offspring a more efficient adaptation than was possible 
in either of the parents. In what degree will these fac- 
tors operate in man? It is clear that, as a mobile crea- 
ture, he can change his environment to one perhaps 

1 J. W. Powell, quoted by A. F. Chamberlain : Tie Child, London, 
1900, p. I. 



l6 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

better suited to his capacities. Assuming his inher- 
ited or congenital characteristics to be exact replica of 
his parents', he may be able, nevertheless, to find an 
environment where these characteristics would be of 
better service to him than they were to the latter. This 
is constantly illustrated by the phenomena of human 
migration. But, primarily, man is not more mobile 
than many other mammals and far less mobile than 
numberless birds and insects. In these lower forms, 
however, the discovery of a more favorable environ- 
ment depends largely upon chance, while with man the 
factor of intelhgence operates. If it were not for this 
factor, together with the secondary means of locomotion 
which his intelhgence enables him to utihze, it is safe 
to say that, in this particular, man would be at a great 
disadvantage compared with many other forms, in so far 
as improvement through change of habitat is concerned. 

(6) Regarding the second factor, it is clear that, in 
a changing environment, — such as the advance and 
retreat of an ice cap, — variations may be produced 
that will be adaptable to changed conditions and thus 
serve to perpetuate the line of descent. Can improve- 
ments in human adjustment also be laid at the door 
of variation and, if so, to what extent? 

The tendency to variation is common to all forms 
of organic hfe, but it differs in degree with different 
species and genera. Thus, among domestic animals, the 
cat varies very little as compared with the dog, and the 

4 



EDUCATION REDUCED TO ITS LOWEST TERMS 1 7 

turkey very little as compared with the barnyard fowl.^ 
When we compare man with other animals, we find 
that his tendency to variation is not particularly marked. 
Indeed, it is safe to say that man is one of the least vari- 
able of all animal forms. 

The only important change that has taken place in 
man's structure since Eocene times has been a marvel- 
ous increase in the size of the cerebral hemispheres.^ 
This means that during approximately two and one 
half miUion years man's bodily structure has remained 
practically the same, save for this increase in the size 
of the brain. But even more remarkable is the fact 
that from Pleistocene times onward — a period of at 
least a half-miUion years — there has been very Uttle 
change even in the form and size of the brain; while 
it is still more remarkable that, during the period cov- 
ered by human history, — perhaps eight thousand years, 
— there has been no apparent change in the gross ana- 
tomical structure of this organ. It may be that changes 
in the microscopical structure have been occurring as 
the result of natural selection, and that these, as well as 
the fund of useful traditions at his disposal, have con- 
tributed to man's mental superiority. These changes 

1 Cope, op. cit., p, 21. 

' Cope, op, cit., p. 150, " It is only in the structure of the brain and the 
reproductive system that man shows an advance over the Eocene type." 
Keane, on the other hand, admits nothing more than a " generalized 
precursor, differing specifically from all present varieties," even in Plio- 
cene times. (A. H. Keane: Ethnology, Cambridge, 1901, p. 69.) 



l8 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

in the finer structure are, however, yet to be demon- 
strated. When we remember that this latter period has 
witnessed the most profound changes in everything that 
we call human, we are in a position to comprehend in 
some sHght measure the absolute insignificance to man 
of the factors that make for progress in the lower orders. 
Away back in NeoUthic, perhaps even in Paleolithic, times, 
Nature finished her work as far as man is concerned. 
The forces of structural variation, which mean everything 
to the lower orders, then came to an abrupt halt in the 
human species. Since that time man's progress has been 
determined by another factor. We may call this factor 
culture, we may call it, with Baldwin, "social heredity," 
we may call it moraHty, we may call it civilization; but 
whatever we call it, its essence is education in the broadest 
tsense: the acquisition, the retention, and the organization) 
tof experiences that shall serve to modify and render mor^ 
efl&cient man's adjustment to his environment. 

Measured by all the standards of the brute world, man 
seems to be almost pitiably unfortunate. Nature has provided 
other animals with fur coverings for protection ugainst cold, 
with migratory instincts which lead them to avoid unfavorable 
environments, with teeth and tusks and claws for offense and 
defense. Or, if Nature has not provided these things directly, 
she has at least provided tendencies to variation that have 
resulted in their development. Man, on the other hand, lacks 
both the factors and the tendency to variation which might 
produce them. And yet the lack of a natural covering for the 
body, the lack of natural weapons, even the lack of a proclivity 
for variation, have all been positive forces in human progress. 



EDUGATION REDUCED TO ITS LOWEST TERMS I9 

The endowments that man lacks have been too easy a means of 
survival and progress. Nature has always set a premium upon 
the successful surmounting of difficulties. Throughout the en- 
tire range of life, we find that advancement has been corre- 
lated, not with what would seem at first glance to be the most 
favorable conditions, but rather with conditions that have 
offered serious obstacles to Ufe. 

It is beyond doubt that life began with simple, unicellular 
forms, Uving at or near the surface of the ocean. Professor 
Brooks ^ has shown that this is the most favorable environment 
for the genesis and perpetuation of life that the earth has ever 
afforded. " At the surface of the ocean the abundance and uni- 
form distribution of mineral food in solution, the area which is 
available for plants, the volume of sunlight, and the uniformity 
of the temperature are all favorable to the growth of plants, 
and as each plant is bathed on all sides by a nutritive fluid, it 
is advantageous for the new plant-cells which are formed by cell 
inultiplication to separate from each other as soon as possible, in 
order to expose the whole of their surface to the water. Cell 
aggregation, the first step toward higher organization, is there- 
fore disadvantageous to the pelagic plants." Hence it comes 
about that we find to-day, upon the surface of the ocean, 
myriads of primitive forms that are undoubtedly the exact 
replica of forms that existed millions of years ago at the very 
dawn of life^ It was not until some of these forms migrated to 
the sea floor, and later to the dry land, that aggregation and 
differentiation gave the first impetus to progress. "The 
pelagic plant life of the ocean has retained its primitive sim- 
plicity on account of the very favorable character of its environ- 
ment, and the higher rank of the littoral vegetation and that of 
the land is the result of hardship"^ 

1 W. K. Brooks : Foundations of Zoology, p. 225. 

' Brooks, op. cit., p. 224 (italics mine). Cf. also p. 219: "A lingula is 
still living in the sand-bars and mud-flats of the Chesapeake Bay under 
conditions which have not effected any change in its structure since the 



20 1 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

Passing over the long ages that elapsed between these first 
steps in progress and the appearance of the human species, 
it is still apparent that the same principle is operative. The 
highest types of human development in the earliest times of 
which we have record were not found in the most favored 
environments. The influence of the desert upon civilization 
has often been noted. The great river valleys of the Nile and 
Euphrates were the seats of ancient civilization, not from acci- 
dent, but because the constant struggle with the encroaching 
desert brought out, selected, and developed those characteristics 
that we identify with human progress. Mere brute strength 
and brute cunning were not adequate to meet the conditions of 
life. Agriculture must be depended upon for food, and under 
desert conditions successful agriculture means a high degree 
of intelligence. In the struggle for survival under these con- 
ditions, a premium was set upon mental rather than physical 
prowess, and the forms of life that lacked intelligence were 
swiftly eliminated. 

Under more modern conditions, we find that the highest 
types of human progress are represented by races inhabiting 
the temperate zones, where men must consciously struggle 
during the summer to provide food and shelter and clothing 
against the coming of the winter. The survival of the fittest in 
such an environment means a survival of the intelligent, the 
industrious, the temperate. It means the selection and per- 
petuation of those that can look ahead, that can hold a remote 
end clearly in mind, that can sacrifice the desires and impulses 
of the moment to the duties of the fiiture. 

How far is this principle to be carried? Is one to say that 
the chances for progress always bear an inverse ratio to the 
superficial advantages that an environment affords? If this 

times of the Lower Cambrian. . . . The everlasting hills are the type of 
venerable antiquity; but lingula has seen the continents grow up, and has 
maintained its integrity unmoved by the convulsions which have given the 
crust of the earth its present form." 



EDUCATION REDUCED TO ITS LOWEST TERMS 21 

were true, the frigid zones should be the seats of the highest 
type of civilization, and the best type of individual manhood 
should consistently arise from the gutter. Certainly a line must 
be drawn at some point. Somewhere between the privation 
and discomfort of the Polar regions and the ease and luxury of 
the tropics there lies an optimal zone for progress ; and some- 
where between the idleness and caprice of the favored child of 
fortune and the sodden, ceaseless, mechanical drudgery of " The 
Man with the Hoe," there lies the optimal zone for individual 
achievement. "A favorable environment in any case is not 
one free from struggle, but rather one in which the organism is 
victorious in its conflicts, and in which the victory is not bought 
at too great a price." ^ 

To summarize. Despite its weakened capacity for 
variation, the human species possesses two characteris- 
tics that place it far in advance of all other animal forms 
in so far as its chances for improvement over past con- 
ditions are concerned, (i) Man has the capacity to 
profit by his own experiences; and (2) the additional 
capacity to profit by the experiences of the race. The 
higher animals share with him the first capacity to a 
limited extent; the second capacity is his alone. It is 
the prerogative of man to transmit to his offspring acquired 
characteristics. An experience that modifies adjustment 
certainly gives rise to an acquired characteristic. Knowl- 
edge is race experience. Knowledge is the greatest and 
most potent of all acquired characteristics. 

10. These two capacities, which mean so much to man, 

1 L. F. Barker : American Text-book of Pathology, Philadelphia, 1901, 
p. 1 8 (preface). 



22 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

are both dependent in very large degree upon the powei 
of speech. That this is true with the capacity to profit 
by the experiences of others is obvious enough. That 
it is equally true of the capacity to profit by individual 
experiences must be left for later demonstration. 

II. Education may he tentatively defined y then, as the 
process by means of which the individual acquires expe- 
riences that will function in rendering more efficient his 
future action. The hfe of the individual is limited: give 
him no guidance and each generation must practically 
repeat, step by step, the Hfe of its predecessors. The 
only chance for improvement would he, as with the lower 
animals, in the ability to change the habitat or in the 
proclivity to congenital variation. When, however, the 
individual has at his disposal not only his own experi- 
ences and those of his lineal predecessors, but, with both 
these, the experiences of his contemporaries and of his 
ancestors' contemporaries, the equipment that he pos- 
sesses for his struggle with the environment is far and 
away superior to that of any other animal, and his 
chances for improvement and progress are far greater. 
It is hardly too much to say that education is the larg- 
est word in the vocabulary of life, for it symbohzes all 
those forces that have raised man from the plane of the 
brute, all those characteristics that differentiate him from 
the speechless anthropoid, the Homo alalus, with which, 
not so very long ago, he was to be identified. 



CHAPTER n 
The Function of the School 

I. If the tentative definition of education with which 
the last chapter closed is valid, it follows that the acqui- 
sition of any experience whatsoever that serves to modify 
future adjustment is an educative process. One is per- 
haps apt to think of education as confined to the school, 
or, at most, to the school and the home. This is mani- 
festly a narrow view, and one that has done much to 
create in the popular mind an antithesis between edu- 
cation and life. Throughout the years of childhood, 
at least, there is very little that the individual does that 
is without some effect upon his future adjustment. It 
is therefore well to divide educational forces into two 
classes: (a) informal education, embodying those modi- 
fying influences to which every individual is subjected 
in varying degrees, and (b) jormal education, embody- 
ing the modifying influences the control of which is 
consciously assumed either by the individual himself 
or by some educative agency, such as the school, the 
home, or the church. 

(a) Informal education is symboUzed by the common 
saying, "Experience is the best teacher." It would 

23 



24 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS * 

appear from the previous discussion that this statement 
is a palpable truism, for when education is reduced to 
its lowest terms, experience is seen to be the only teacher. 
What the phrase is intended to convey is this: experi- 
ences that are gained incidentally in the course of the 
individual life are much more effective in modifying 
adjustment than experiences gained formally for this 
express purpose. Stated in this way, the proposition 
involves an assumption that schools and teachers are 
inferior in efficiency to the educative forces of practical 
life. That this proposition is generally valid can scarcely 
be doubted. "The burnt child dreads the fire" much 
more effectively than the child who is carefully instructed 
that the fire will burn him. A youth will assimilate a 
greater number of useful experiences in a bank than 
he will in a commercial school. In general, the experi- 
ences that issue from "practical" life will have a more 
lasting effect and will function more effectively than 
the experiences gained in school. The truth of this 
statement is self-evident. The reason that lies behind 
it, however, reveals an important lesson for pedagogy 
which must be left for later discussion. 

Notwithstanding its unquestioned advantages, how- 
ever, informal education has some marked limitations, 
(i) It is unsystematic: it fixes only the experiences 
that happen to come, and makes no provisions for expe- 
riences that may not be presented until adjustment 
has come to move in fixed channels; until the bodily 



THE FUNCTION OF THE SCHOOL 2$ 

tendencies are firm and stable, and hence insusceptible 
to ready modification. (2) It is uneconomical: it leaves 
out of account the mass of experience that the race has 
acquired, and thus virtually leaves unutilized the capacity 
which man alone possesses to profit by the experience 
of others. If the child had a life as long as that of the 
race, and if he remained in a plastic stage throughout 
this period, we might well leave him to work out his 
own salvation. In short, the phrase, "Experience is 
the best teacher," is not nearly so profound as the quali- 
fication that is commonly added, "Experience is the 
best teacher, and also the dearest." 

(b) Formal education, then, while it labors under 
certain inherent disadvantages, is seen to perform an 
indispensable function in life. It does not leave the 
child to the haphazard operation of natural forces, but . 
sees to it that he assimilates, whether he will or no, those 
experiences which, it has learned, will help him the most. 
It may place him in environments where such experi- 
ences cannot fail to be gained, or it may simply transmit 
to him the experience of the race through the medium 
of language. In either case, its function is selective and • 
in this sense it is a formal — even an artificial — process. 

2. The fundamental agency of formal education is 
the family. It is true that family life affords number- 
less opportunities for education of the informal type, 
but, essentially, the atmosphere of the home is dominated 
by a conscious purpose to bring the child into harmony 



26 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

with whatever degree of civilized life the home may 
represent. It is here that the first steps are taken 
away from the animal, away from the brute. Care- 
fully and patiently the habits of personal cleanliness 
and decency are inculcated — in part through imitation; 
in part, too, by conscious instruction involving the cor- 
rection of mistakes, the serial repetition of trial and 
error, the positive and conscious setting up of models 
of speech and deportment for conscious and painstaking 
imitation. And beyond this is the impressing of the 
ideals of moraUty and rehgion and the very fundamentals 
of that national or race ideal that draws its nourish- 
ment from the home as the unit of all human society. 
I" At all stages of educational history," says Laurie,^! 
the family is the chief agency in the education of the! 
young, and, as such, it ought never to be superseded.") 
In the most primitive forms of human society, the' 
home is the sole agency of formal education, involving, 
in addition to the fundamental functions just mentioned, 
conscious instruction in whatever crude arts of hunting 
and warfare the adult members of the family may prac- 
tice.^ Among many primitive tribes, it is true, this edu- 
cation of the home or family is supplemented at the 
onset of adolescence by different types of initiatory cere- 
monies which serve, in some measure, as a medium of? 
formal instruction undertaken by the community rather 

^ S. S. Laurie: Pre-Christian Education^ New York, 1900, p. 6. 
• T. Davidson : History of Education^ New York, 1900, p. 20. 



THE FUNCTION OF THE SCHOOL 2^ 

than the family;^ but this would seem, in the majority 
of cases, to be more in the nature of a rehgious rite than 
of an agency of formal education ; that is to say, it is deter- 
mined by custom and precedent rather than by a con- 
scious purpose to bring the child into harmony with 
the tribal institutions, although there can be no doubt 
that it serves, in a measure, to fulfill this latter function. 
3. Passing from the stage of savagery to the stage of 
barbarism, a differentiation of the educative function 
is first to be found. "The barbarian, as distinguished 
from the savage stage of culture, begins at the point 
where men learn to control natural forces — fire, water, 
wind — and to apply them directly to the satisfaction 
of their desires."^ With this progress in culture comes 
a division of labor. Social Hfe, before unsettled and 
perhaps nomadic, becomes relatively fixed and perma- 
nent. The home retains its fundamental educative 
functions, but the training in the primitive arts of hunting 
and warfare gives place to a more thorough training 
in special trades — a training, moreover, not neces- 
sarily confined to the home. As the crafts of rudimen- 
tary civilization became speciaHzed, the masters in these 
crafts undertook the education of "apprentices," and 
"guild" instruction forms the first type of conscious 
or formal education outside the family.^ 

1 J. Deniker: The Races of Man, London, 1901, pp. 241 ff.; see also 
A. H. Daniels : The New Life, in American Journal of Psychology, 1893, 
yol. vi, pp. 61-106. 

^ Davidson, op. cit., p. 25. * Davidson, of. cU.^ jh 26w 



28 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

With this division of labor there also arose the so- 
cial castes, — priests, soldiers, producers. Of these 
the priests became the conservators of whatever race- 
experience had been concentrated or condensed into the 
forms of knowledge. It was their duty to interpret, 
to explain, to forecast. Knowledge, or the past expe- 
rience of the race, however crude and inadequate, how- 
ever heavily overlaid with superstition and mystery and 
speculation, became the tool with which they worked. 

Davidson ^ points out that, just as the discovery of fire 
laid the basis for the arts, so the discovery of writing laid 
the basis for science. With writing came the preser- 
vation of knowledge in relatively fixed and permanent 
forms. Hitherto the medium of social heredity had 
been oral discourse. The race-experiences shaped them- 
selves into myths and legends, epics and sagas; and 
wandering bards, of which Homer is the type, scattered 
broadcast the crude and primitive wisdom thus repre- 
sented. But with the advent of writing this medium of 
transmission gradually lost its place.^ With the advent 
of writing, also, education assumed a new significance. 
The priestly caste still further monopoUzed the pre- 
rogatives of learning; education came to mean still 
more the assimilation of knowledge rather than the ac- 
quisition of experience. The temple became a school. 

1 Davidson, op. cit., p. 28. 

* But oral transmission was not so inefficient as we seem to think to-day; 
see E. B. Tylor : Anthropology, New York, 1896, ch. xv. 



THE FUNCTION OF THE SCHOOL 29 

A new type of formal education, centering in books 
and neglecting all arts save those concerned with lan- 
guage, became a fixed and permanent function of religion. 

4. How the modern school gradually developed from 
this educational appendage of the church, the history 
of education relates. For centuries only partially dif- 
ferentiated from the priesthood, Schoolcraft finally secured 
an independent footing in the division of labor. Still 
more gradually it came to concern itself with the practi- 
cal as well as the theoretical, with the arts as well as the 
sciences. This has been at best only a very recent devel- 
opment and the full fruition is not yet; but education 
as concerned with all conscious and purposeful modi- 
fications of adjustment through experience is coming 
to be recognized as the true function of the school. No 
longer limited to the realm of the intellectual and "ab- 
stract," it touches life at all points. This conception is 
both narrower and broader than that which it is dis- 
placing so rapidly. It subordinates the ideal to the 
practical; it sacrifices science to service and truth to life. 
But on the other hand it idealizes the practical, ration- 
alizes service, and enriches life. It involves serious 
dangers as well as undoubted blessings, but if the dan- 
gers can be counteracted, the movement assuredly augurs 
well for the future of the school. 

5. One further point remains to be considered in 
connection with the function of the school. As an agency 
of formal education, its field is largely limited to the 



30 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

period of individual immaturity, — the so-called "period 
of infancy," and to understand the function of the school 
one must grasp in some measure the significance of 
this period to human evolution. 

The biological meaning of the helplessness and depend- 
ence of infancy has been fully recognized only in recent 
years. While some of the Greek philosophers hinted 
vaguely at its function,-^ it is to John Fiske that the credit 
must be given for endowing education with what is 
perhaps its most illuminating conception.^ 

(a) In the first place, infancy is a period of necessary 
dependence. The child lives what might well be termed 
an artificial life — a Hfe where everything is provided for 
him, where he has to take no thought of food or shelter 
or clothing, where responsibihty is borne by other shoul- 
ders. This means that the energy which would, under 
other conditions, be devoted to procuring food and cloth- 
ing and providing shelter is available for other purposes. 

(b) In the second place, infancy is a period of plas- 
ticity. The lower animals are born with nerve connec- 
tions already fixed and, except in the higher vertebrates, 
comparatively permanent and stable. In the nervous 
system of man, the entire cerebrum is practically un- 
organized at birth. It is a mass of latent possibihties, 
and whatever connections are made later are due almost 



1 Cf. E. G. Burnet: Earfy Greek Philosophers, London, 1892, p. 74; 
cited by Chamberlain. 

* J. Fiske : OuUinei of Cosmic Philosophy, London, 1874. 



THE FUNCTION OF THE SCHOOL 3 1 

entirely to the forces of the environment and not to the 
forces of heredity. But these connections, once made, 
also tend in the course of time to become permanent 
and somewhat inflexible. That is, after a certain plastic 
period the nervous tissue loses some measure of its 
plasticity. While it is still possible to learn new adjust- 
ments, — to acquire and profit by experiences, — after 
this time the task is much more difficult.^ 

The meaning of infancy is, therefore, economic leisure 
— freedom from the responsibilities of food-getting and 
self-support — and organic plasticity. Curiously enough, 
the Greek equivalent of the English word " school " — 
schole — also means leisure. Because the child must be 
supported by the labor of others during this period, he can 
utilize his time and energy for remote rather than imme- 
diate ends; he can store up experiences for future years. 
Because his body, and especially his upper nerve centers, 
are in a plastic condition, the experiences that he acquires 
at this time can most easily make a deep and abiding 
impression. "A comparatively witless infancy must 
augur the high intellectual development of the men and 
women of the race. What a vast difference between the 

1 The significance of human infancy as a period of plasticity has a close 
parallel in the lower animals. J. B. Watson {Animal Education, Chicago, 
1903) has shown that the mental development of the white rat is directly 
correlated with the medullation of fibers in the central nervous system after 
birth. Similar studies made by Jessie Allen on the guinea-pig {Journal 
of Neurology and Psychology, 1904, vol. xiv) show that medullation is com- 
plete at birth, and that the guinea-pig never equals the white rat in adjust- 
ments involving intelligence. 



32 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

amoeba at the beginning of the animal scale and the 
human infant at the top ! There parent and offspring 
are practically one, with no immaturity and no need 
of education. And between the two lie all varieties 
of animal life, with ever increasing complexity of struc- 
ture and intelligence in the adult, and ever lengthening 
infancy and childhood in the offspring." ^ 

6. The school, then, is a specialized agency of formal 
education which aims to control in a measure the expe- 
riences of the child during the plastic period of infancy. 
It must be repeated, however, that education is not limited 
to the school. -Wherever one individual learns from 
another how to better his life, how to meet more success- 
fully the forces that oppose him, how to assimilate race- 
experience and profit by it — there an educative process 
is going on whether there be a school or not. And more 
than this: wherever one individual learns from his own 
experiences how to adapt himself more adequately to 
future situations, there an educative process is going 
on, whether there be a teacher or not. The education 
by the family up to the period of school instruction, 
the education by the family and by society during this 
period and afterward, the education of the individual 
in the "school of experience" — none of these factors 
can be neglected. But while one recognizes this truth, 
one must also recognize that the school demands the 
largest share of attention and study, not because it influ- 

1 A. F. Chamberlain : TAe Child, London, 1900, p. 3. 



THE FUNCTION OF THE SCHOOL 33 

ences the child more than any of the other forces, — home 
or society or Hfe, — but because it is more amenable 
to control. It is through the school that the future 
of the race can be influenced with the greatest certainty. 
The factor of parental education is quite invariable; 
the same ends are sought and the same methods employed 
generation after generation. The social factor and that 
designated by "Hfe" are, on the contrary, ultra- vari- 
able, possessing so little stability that, notwithstanding 
their profound influence, their results can never be pre- 
dicted with certainty. The school lies, therefore, be- 
tween these two extremes as the one factor that is within 
our control in an appreciable degree. 

This last proposition may demand evidence. After all, can the 
formal education of the school make a lasting impression upon 
the social body? Can a powerful educator of to-day so direct 
the forces at his command as materially and tangibly to influ- 
ence the future condition of society? These questions can be 
answered in but one way — by an appeal to educational history. 

That of China is a case in point. No other country is so 
thoroughly imbued with the spirit of formal instruction ; in no 
other country have the power and influence of an elaborate 
educational system been put to so adequate a test. It is, as 
it were, an experiment made to hand. The Chinese character 
as it stands to-day is the result of a selective process that has 
been going on for centuries, tending to preserve and promote 
the non-progressive ideals of the past, and tending by the same 
token to eliminate the variations from the established stock. 
The work of the Chinese schools and schoolmasters, crystalhzed 
as it is in memoriter drills of the most formal kind, has given 
its characteristic features to the race ideal. 



34 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

The educational history of England furnishes a parallel case 
It is now almost half a century since Herbert Spencer published 
his essays on " Education," in which, almost with the vision of 
a prophet, he predicted the effect which the hypertrophy of 
classical instruction would have upon the EngHsh people. He 
pleads for more science in the schools and universities. "Just 
as fast," he says, " as productive processes become more scien- 
tific, which competition will inevitably make them do ; and 
just as fast as joint-stock undertakings spread, which they cer- 
tainly will, just so fast will scientific education become neces- 
sary to every one. ... All our industries would cease were it 
not for that information which men begin to acquire as best 
they may after their education is said to be finished. And 
were it not for this information that has been from age to age 
accumulated and spread by unofficial means, these industries 
would never have existed."^ 

It is a matter of commonplace knowledge that Spencer's 
prophecy has "come true," and that England is reaping, in 
vanishing markets and a decay of commercial prestige, the 
fruits of her neglect of scientific instruction. Yet, even now, 
she only hesitatingly acknowledges that the cause of her indus- 
trial decline must be laid at the door of her short-sighted educa- 
tional policy. 

China and England offer evidence of a negative character. 
Japan and Germany offer evidence of a positive character, and 
this is all the more convincing because each offsets a people of 
its own race, thus eliminating any factor that might be urged 
on the ground of " constitutional tendencies." 

It is not necessary to dwell upon the marvelous change that 
has been wrought in the Japanese people within the last half- 
century. Almost in a generation the character of the race has 
been transformed. Nor can there be a doubt that formal edu- 
cation has been a large factor in this change. The compulsory 

^ H. Spencer : Education, New York, 1895, pp. 53 f. 



THE FUNCTION OF THE SCHOOL 35 

public school system, the liberal endowment of universities and 
schools of technology, and the state support of native studenia 
in foreign lands have all contributed their share to the materia^ 
prosperity of the empire. Education in Japan is a " business ' 
proposition, not a mere matter of precedent and custom ; an^'i, 
although it is an expression of a new and vigorous national id«kal, 
it is not "sentimental" in the sense that the ultra-efTeminized 
school system of the United States deserves that opprobrium. 
Germany's contribution to the discussion is even n\ore con- 
vincing. At the close of the Napoleonic wars, Germany's con- 
dition was almost hopeless. Politically and iT>rlu«-trially, she 
seemed to be upon the verge of disintegration. At this criti- 
cal juncture, Prussia took up Pestalozzi's scheme of a public, 
universal education — the same comprehensive plan that Na- 
poleon had dismissed with a sneer. Ir. two generations educa- 
tion had transformed Germany from l^^e weakest to the strongest 
nation on the continent of Europe; and when Von Moltke 
received the capitulation of Paris at^he close of the Franco- 
Prussian War, he gave the credit for /'he triumph to the school- 
master. The insult that Pestalozzi i.ad suffered at the hands 
of Napoleon could not have been rflfl»re fittingly wiped out. 
Nor is Germany's industrial supremac;-^ to-day less due to edu- 
cational factors than was her political "supremacy in 187 1. It 
is a commonplace that she owes her virtual command of the 
world's markets to her high-grade technics J schools. Just as the 
schoolmaster won the Franco-Prussian W.-it, so the schoolmaster, 
aided by the professor of chemistry, has I fiumphed in industrial 
competition. In view of these facts oxit) can scarcely marvel 
that the education of the German people i-'pot intrusted (as it is 
in some other countries) to " immature woti^n and feeble men." 

7. Every now and again the old question, "Is heredity 
more influential than environment in determining char- 
acter?" is raised in a new form. It is a world-old 



36 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

query thac will probably never admit of a universally 
valid answer. It offers a choice between fatalism and 
jjiope — and the enlightened nations of the earth are 
annually staking milHons of dollars on the side of hope. 

Tt is certainly true that individuals vary in tendencies 
and aptitudes, and it is certainly true that many of these 
diffeiC^nces are due to hereditary conditions; yet it is 
generally agreed among anthropologists that, in the 
large, tht\.factor of heredity plays a very small part in 
human life as compared with the factor of environment. 
It has already il?een suggested that hereditary factors 
have been largely i^placed in man by environmental 
factors because of the hj'.gher survival value that attaches 
to the latter; that instinct has degenerated; that the re- 
flexes with which the infant is provided at birth are much 
less efficient and much less highly organized than in 
the lower forms. Nj-ture is not lavish with her gifts; 
she refuses to expeM energy needlessly; she refuses 
to supply luxuries thgt have no purpose. 

And just because^ the factor of environment is all- 
important in hurtjiin life, education, which simply 
represents the rational employment of this factor, is all- 
influential. The S("^hool is only an institution for provid- 
ing environments, >*or regulating environments, for turning 
environmental forces to a definite and conscious end. 

Each subject of the school curriculum represents a certain 
specific attitude toward the world about us — represents a 
certain specific phase of experience with the environment. 



THE FUNCTION OF THE SCHOOL 3/ 

From the standpoint of mathematical science, the arithmetic 
of the schools comprehends the principles of number; from 
the standpoint of education, arithmetic is one expression of 
our attitude toward our surroundings. Number is one of the 
ways in which we interpret the environment, one of the 
methods by means of which we subdue it and turn its forces 
to our own ends. 

Geography is a study of the environment in the concrete ; 
it treats of the earth as the home of man. And the natural 
sciences, from this point of view, are but abstractions from the 
comprehensive field that geography covers, — botany dealing 
with the world of plants, zoology with the world of animals, 
geology with the world of inorganic matter, meteorology with 
the world of air, and so on. Physics represents still another 
phase of our surroundings, — our experience with the forces 
that operate upon material bodies. And chemistry and as- 
tronomy represent still other types of experiences that result 
from our contact with the external world. 

The world of man is just as real and tangible as the world 
of matter, and the human sciences represent our experiences 
with the social environment, just as the natural sciences repre- 
sent our experiences with the physical environment. History 
relates the experience of different races amid diverse sur- 
roundings ; it is a record of reactions and adjustments ; it is 
experience in the concrete. Sociology is experience with the 
social environment, condensed into principles and organized 
into a system. Politics is only a certain phase of sociology, 
representing experience with a limited sphere of social activity. 

Nor are the mental sciences to be excluded from this list. 
Psychology is the science of experience itself, — the experience 
of experiences, to put it awkwardly but truthfully. Ethics and 
aesthetics, logic and epistemology, are but specific phases of 
the larger field of psychology, much as physics and botany are 
abstractions from the larger field of geography. 



38 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

Throughout the curriculum of the school, then, each 
of the various branches of knowledge really represents 
a certain type of experience with a limited phase of the 
world about us or within us. It is one duty of the 
school to impart this experience to the child. "It should 
not be forgotten," says Professor Howerth,^ ". . . that 
one function, if not the function of our school system, 
is to distribute amongst the members of society the most 
important knowledge that has already been collected." 

But the school has another function. Education means 
not only the assimilation of race-experience but the acqui- 
sition of individual experience as well. The school must 
provide for the child certain environments, reaction to 
which will give him experiences that will be service- 
able to him in later Ufe. This is the phase of educa- 
tion that is just now coming into prominence — so 
rapidly, indeed, that Professor Howerth very pertinently 
warns the teacher that the side of knowledge or race- 
experience must not be forgotten. It has been men- 
tioned earher in this chapter as a recognition of the 
arts as well as the sciences, of doing as well as knowing, 
of action as well as thought. 

How these two functions may work together harmoni- 
ously will be the theme of a later section. One further 
problem still remains for consideration in connection 
with the present discussion. It has been said that the 
school is an institution for providing environments, 

^ I. W. Howerth, in Educational Rtview, 1902, vol. xxir, p. l6l. 



THE FUNCTION OF THE SCHOOL 39 

for regulating environments, and for turning environ- 
mental forces to a definite and conscious end. What this 
end is and what it should be are questions that demand 
a treatment far more comprehensive than the following 
chapter can attempt. 



CHAPTER III 
The Ethical End of Education 

1. The question now presents itself: Upon what basis 
shall the school, or any other agency of formal education, 
select the experiences that are to function in modifying 
adjustment? To what end shall adjustment be modi- 
fied? Shall the school attempt so to organize the reac- 
tions of the individual that he may be able to earn a 
respectable livelihood? If so, it must first determine 
what experiences will best subserve this end. Or will 
its ultimate aim be to develop "moral character," as 
the followers of Herbart maintain? In this case, it is 
possible that a different set of experiences must be 
chosen. And so one might go on through the entire 
list of educational aims. 

2. It seems tolerably clear, however, that the laws 
that underHe the educative process are largely in- 
dependent of the ultimate end of education. The 
particular problem with which this book is concerned 
is how experiences shall be impressed in order that 
they may function effectively in modifying adjustment. 
Whatever, the ultimate end of education may be, the 
acquisition, the retention, the organization, and the 

40 



THE ETHICAL END OF EDUCATION 4I 

application of experiences are subject to certain uni- 
form laws. The ultimate end may vary and has varied 
from race to race and from generation to generation; but 
the fundamental processes are based upon the relatively 
constant factors of mental and physical activity and 
growth. The ultimate end of education in the pubhc 
school, for example, will doubtless be vastly different 
from the aim of Fagin the Jew in his training of Ohver 
Twist. Yet the methods employed in both cases may be 
based upon identical principles. In either case the child 
is subjected to certain experiences that are planned to 
modify his future adjustment; in neither case is this 
adjustment left to the Wind control of inherited impulse. 
3. At the risk of multiplying terms needlessly, it may 
be profitable to discriminate between aims of education 
in this way: the aim or purpose or function that was 
discussed in Chapter I may be termed empirical, while 
the ultimate or final aim may be termed ethical. It is 
the empirical aim of education to fix experiences that 
shall modify adjustment. It is the ethical aim to fix 
those experiences that shall modify adjustment -^th 
reference to a certain definite end; those experiences 
that will make the individual a moral agent, or enable 
him to earn his own livehhood, or, perhaps, enable him 
to steal successfully. Dynamite explodes in the same 
way, — according to the same laws, — whether it is 
used as a harmless blast in a mine or to deal death and 
destruction at the will of an anarchist. Similarly, the 



42 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

principles of educational method work in the same way 
whether they are to produce a theologian or a thief. 

The advantage of this distinction between empirical and 
ethical aims of education will be apparent to all who have been 
distressed by the cry of certain critics to the effect that educa- 
tion can never become a science, because, forsooth, educa- 
tional ideals are in continual flux, and the truth of to-day may 
be the falsehood of to-morrow.' As well say that physics can 
never become a science because there is nothing in the law of 
gravitation that will indicate with certainty whether a criminal 
or an innocent man is to be hung. A great many problems of 
educational practice can be solved only by recognizing a defi- 
nite end of education. These problems are concerned mainly 
with the course of study, — the " educational values " of dif- 
ferent items of the curriculum. Will science develop bread- 
winning capacity better than history? Will history develop 
moral character more effectually than science ? Here the ulti- 
mate aim is obviously important. But these questions once 
settled, there still remain the detailed problems of method. 
Granted that science represents the experience that will best 
subserve our ultimate purpose, how shall the individual be sub- 
jected to this experience ? How shall we insure that the knowl- 
edge will be assimilated and retained and appUed? This is 
the practical problem of method, and the problem that the 
great rank and file of teachers must solve. They have little 
to do with the determination of educational values or with the 
structure of the course of study. 

4. True as this is, it must not be inferred that the 
average teacher need take no account of the ethical 

1 Cf. Professor O'Shea's rejoinder to Dilthey's assertion that education 
can never be admitted as a science because its generalizations do not have 
universal validity. M. V. O'Shea : Education as Adjustment, New York, 
1903, pp. 11-13. 



THE ETHICAL END OF EDUCATION 43 

aim of education. While the principles of method may 
be independent of aim, just what method is to be em- 
ployed by the teacher in a given instance may depend 
entirely upon the purpose that he seeks to accomplish. 
While dynamite may either blast a rock or kill a king, 
the miner or the anarchist may decide that, after all, 
gunpowder is better suited to his purpose. And while 
the direct method may enable the child to assimilate a 
bit of knowledge, the teacher may conclude that, for his 
purpose, the indirect method will answer as well or 
better. In short, while it would be possible to con- 
struct a science of educational method in which the 
ultimate aim of education should be entirely neglected, 
the value of such a structure would certainly not be 
impaired and might, for some purposes, be greatly 
enhanced if a definite aim were assumed. The prin- 
ciples that we shall present in the following chapters 
are, in the main, general principles valid in any particu- 
lar case; but it is safe to assume that no one will care 
to apply them to the development of thieves and mur- 
derers; and inasmuch as a definite assumption of an 
ethical or ultimate aim may serve to render our discus- 
sions more vital and less abstract, it may not be amiss 
to state this assumption at the outset; remembering, of 
course, that, even if it is not accepted by all as the true 
end of education, the larger principles which it is used 
to illustrate will not sujffer thereby. 
5. The ultimate aims that have been proposed for 



44 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

education are as numerous as educational theorists, 
consequently their name is legion. It would require a 
volume of no small dimensions to discuss in a critical 
manner even the more important. We shall therefore 
limit ourselves to those that have had the greatest in- 
fluence in shaping contemporary educational pohcy. 
These will not necessarily be the most profound, but 
rather those that have appealed most effectively to the 
popular mind. 
^\ (a) The ^' Bread-and-Butter" Aim. That education 
(in the popular sense of the term) may enable an indi- 
vidual to earn a livelihood is the motive that impels 
perhaps the great majority of parents to send their chil- 
dren to school. It may be well to qualify this assertion 
by adding, "The great majority of parents who think 
about the matter at all;" for here as elsewhere the pow- 
erful factor of social imitation must be taken into 
account: the child is sent to school because the school 
is there, and because other parents send their children 
to school. But of those who have a deliberate purpose 
in mind it is highly probable that the impelhng motive 
of the majority can be reduced to the "bread-and-but- 
ter" type. 

It is the habit among educators to lament the preva- 
lence of this aim — to lament especially the sordid and 
purely individual spirit which it commonly reveals. 
Yet it may be said in its favor that the motive is not 
merely to enable the child ta obtain a livelihood, but 



THE ETHICAL END OF EDUCATION 45 

to obtain a better livelihood than would otherwise be 
possible, — a better livelihood, it may be, than his par- 
ents have been capable of procuring. This signifies a 
desire for improvement, for advancement, and as such 
it is surely commendable from any standpoint. That 
this improvement should be measured in dollars and 
cents is due to the universal significance of the monetary 
standard of value. In truth, improvement in the con- 
ditions of life can undoubtedly be more accurately and 
definitely measured by this standard than by any other. 
That the motive is individual is not wholly to be dep- 
recated; that is to say, such an aim, even though indi- 
vidual, is not necessarily unsocial; for, within certain 
limits, individual advancement means social advance- 
ment. 

The chief virtue of the bread-and-butter aim is its 
definiteness. There is nothing vague or intangible 
about the criterion that it sets up. But, notwithstand- 
ing this advantage, it involves a grave source of danger 
in the mental attitude that it encourages — a danger 
that lies, not in its objective results, but in its subjec- 
tive tendencies. In other words, it breeds a narrowing 
spirit and thus tends, in a measure, to defeat its own 
ends. With its rigid adherence to processes that have 
been tried and tested by its own standards, with its un- 
willingness to accept a process the practical value of 
which is not evident upon the surface, it may miss many 
a golden opportunity to further the very purpose which 



46 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

it sets out to accomplish. The parent who objects to a 
"liberal" education because he thinks it impractical 
may see his son outstripped in the race of life by men 
who obtained the liberal training with Uttle or no thought 
as to its effect upon their earning capacity. The "bread- 
and-butter" philosophy everywhere pays the price of 
short-sightedness for the virtue of practical utiUty. In 
the economy of nature one cannot be both broad and 
narrow at the same time. 

6. (b) The Knowledge Aim. This may be looked upon 
as the practical antithesis of the aim just discussed. 
Each is the expression of a popular philosophy: the 
bread-and-butter aim representing the practical, work-a- 
day view of life, the knowledge aim reflecting a view 
of life that would minimize its material expressions and 
emphasize the ideal; the one representing the life of 
struggle, the other representing the life of leisure. 

But the knowledge aim and the bread-and-butter aim, 
contradictory as they may seem in theory, may not work 
inharmoniously in practice. If we look upon knowl- 
edge as that part of race-experience that has been pre- 
served, it would seem reasonable to believe that this 
preservation has been, in large measure, determined by 
practical standards. That is, the body of knowledge is 
made up of facts and laws and principles that are, or 
have been, in one way or another, valuable from the 
standpoint of utihty. From the operation of natural 
law there is no ultimate escape, and the survival of the 



THE ETHICAL END OF EDUCATION 4/ 

useful with the consequent elimination of the useless 
works in the long run as relentlessly in the field of mind 
as it does in the field of matter. It is assumed, of 
course, that those who support the knowledge aim con- 
ceive of knowledge in this way. If, however, the knowl- 
edge aim measures the value of experience merely by 
conventional standards, the case is entirely different. 
We shall revert to this point under the discussion of the 
''culture aim." 

With the knowledge aim as thus interpreted, the dan- 
ger lies, as in the bread-and-butter aim, not in the nature 
of the objective results, but in the nature of the subjec- 
tive tendencies. The hoarding of facts for their own 
sake is somewhat akin to the hoarding of gold. Both 
tend to develop the mental attitude of the "miser." 
In either case the objective results may be the same 
as they would be were the individual abstemious and 
industrious from other and broader motives; but from 
these results must be deducted the negative factors that 
are involved in an unsocial and abstract point of view; 
so that, in the ultimate analysis, the net result may be 
vastly different. Or, to put it in another way: to assimi- 
late experiences merely for the sake of the experiences 
does not prevent the individual from utilizing them after- 
ward; but the fact that he does not, in the first place, 
look upon the experiences as something primarily to 
be used, may interfere with their maximal efiiciency 
in application. 



48 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

7. (c) The Culture Aim. Closely connected with the 
knowledge aim is that which proposes "general culture" 
as the end of education. In the latter case, however, 
knowledge is to be acquired, not for its own sake, but 
because tradition has developed certain standards of cul- 
ture which imply the acquisition of certain items of 
knowledge. — the assimilation of certain conventional 
experiences. It is not necessary that these should have 
a definite appHcation to the problems of life except that 
• they give the individual prestige among his fellows. To 
be able to read Latin was once the sine qua non of the 
student. Before the tongues of Europe had become 
organized and efficient means of preserving and trans- 
mitting experience, one who desired acquaintance with 
the wisdom accumulated by past generations must have 
had recourse to the Latin language. And so it came 
about that Latin formed the central feature of formal 
education at a time when the schools of modern Europe 
first began to take definite shape. 

In the course of organic evolution, structures persist 
long after they have outlived their usefulness. In the 
brain, the epiphysis represents the last vestiges of a 
once-functioning eye. In the muscular system, the 
recti of the ears once had a definite and useful purpose. 
In the digestive tract, the vermiform appendix is an 
atrophied and now useless and cumbrous remnant of 
an organ that still functions in some of the lower forms. 
And so it is with human customs : they persist long after 



THE ETHICAL END OF EDUCATION 49 

their original function has been outgrown. Many of 
the so-called culture studies have little or no practical 
utihty under present conditions. They represent, in 
other words, experiences which the individual has very 
httle occasion to apply to existing problems of Hfe. Yet 
they remain a part of the curriculum of the schools, and 
in many cases they dominate the curriculum. They 
are condoned and justified in various ways — some 
of the attempts to justifiy their continuance being so 
labored and involved as almost to appear ridiculous. 
The real reason for their persistence, however, is that 
they represent, especially in ultra-conservative countries 
like England, "the things that a gentleman must know," 
which is only another way of saying that they give 
a man the earmarks of gentility, — certain habits of 
thought, certain tricks of speech, that serve to differen- 
tiate him from the ungentle. 

Happily the elementary school has developed with 
little reference to this standard, as, obviously, a system 
of education supported from the beginning by the people 
at large must have developed. So much cannot be 
said, however, of the pubHc high and secondary schools. 
That such institutions are still largely dominated by 
this conventional factor and are, in this regard, totally 
subservient to the colleges that receive but the merest 
fraction of their graduates, is a commentary upon the 
snobbish tendencies which a democracy may inherit 
from older forms of government. 



50 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

There is a more or less prevalent theory to the effect that 
the school is a powerful agent in molding public opinion. That 
it can become a powerful agent, the facts brought out in the last 
chapter seem to prove. But that the school generally follows 
rather than leads is a fact which a survey of conditions, espe- 
cially in Anglo-Saxon countries, cannot fail to impress. Where 
the school has become a force, it has been largely in virtue of 
arbitrary rulings, as in the case of Germany or Japan. In demo- 
cratic countries its policy is usually determined by external fac- 
tors, — prejudice and custom in England, prejudice tempered 
by economic conditions in the United States. 

The conservatism of formal education is inherent in its very 
nature. It is firmly rooted in the past, because race-experience, 
or knowledge, with which it is so largely concerned, is a product 
of the past. At the present time the importance that attaches 
to natural science — in itself essentially modern — may lead 
us to underrate this tendency ; but generations hence, after the 
stage of crystallization has set in, its full effects will again be 
plainly apparent. 

8. (d) The Harmonious Development oj All the Powers 
and Faculties oj Man. In spite of its apparent com- 
prehensiveness, the insuflSciency of this aim is evident 
at a glance. The word "harmonious" is the disturbing 
factor. If "complete" or "maximal" development were 
desired, the situation would be materially simplified. 
But no one could, in common sense, demand the com- 
plete or maximal development of all the capacities of 
the individual, although not a few have, in theory, sup- 
posed such a miracle possible. The man who can do 
all things equally well; the man who is master of all 
arts, and at the same time an authority in all fields of 



THE ETHICAL END OF EDUCATION $1 

knowledge; the man who works equally well with head 
and hand, with pen and pencil, with brush and chisel; 
the man who is poet and plowman, orator and artisan, 
financier and philosopher, all in the same breath — this 
man exists only in the pages of fiction or in the fanta- 
sies of the dreamer. It may be possible to develop all the 
faculties equally, but not maximally. Here the relentless 
law_of compensation interposes an emphatic veto. 
But suppose "harmoniously" to mean "equally" 

— what, then, shall we say of this aim ? Common sense 
supplies the answer. You may find the legitimate prod- 
uct of such a view of education in every crossroads 
village. He is known as the jack-of-all-trades, and the 
veriest schoolboy will tell you that he is good at none. 
In art and Uterature, he is the dilettante; in business, 
he is the "general utihty man"; in professional hfe, 
he is the pettifogger. You will find him everywhere 

— the man who can turn his hand to anything, and do 
nothing well. Society needs some of these men, but 
society does not need a system of education that is de- 
signed to turn them out in quantity. The ofiice will never 
be vacant, whatever system of education prevails. 

The harmonious development aim works some very curious 
results when put into practice. Here is a capacity, it says; 
Nature has provided it, hence it is our duty to develop it. The 
fallacy of this syllogism is that of non sequitur. Because the 
capacity is there is not a sufficient reason for its development. 
Every individual has a number of muscles and sets of muscles 
which may be developed. Acting upon this argument, every 



52 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

bit of muscular tissue has its duty to perform, and should not 
be allowed to atrophy through disuse. This point of view 
neglects to take account of a very simple fact, — the fact, 
namely, that conditions of life are vastly different to-day from 
what they were when our bodies took their present form. Just 
as there are in mind certain tendencies that had a vital con- 
nection with primitive conditions of survival, — the tendency 
to do bodily harm to our enemies, to appropriate objects that 
give us satisfaction, regardless of the rights of others, — and 
just as in civilized life we not only let these tendencies atrophy, 
but help on the process as strenuously as possible ; so there are 
in the muscular system certain sets of fibers that had a signifi- 
cance at one time, but the original function of which has long 
since disappeared. And if one is pressed for an example, it is 
easy to cite the rudimentary muscles that once wagged the ears 
of our remote ancestors. It were scarcely necessary to empha- 
size this point were not the contemporary philosophy of physi- 
cal education so utterly naive. 

The harmonious development aim has taken another erratic 
turn in giving undue prominence to " sense training," espe- 
cially as applied to the lower senses', which are not at all acute 
in man. The rudiments, however, exist; ergo, they should be 
developed. Now the sense of smell has atrophied in man for 
a very good reason, — a fact for which one who lives under 
modern conditions should, in all conscience, be duly grateful. 
Olfactory acuteness was undoubtedly highly important at one 
period of race-development. Its function has, however, been 
almost entirely replaced by other factors, — by acuteness of 
vision and hearing in some measure, but more than this by the 
fact that intellectual acuteness is far more efficient than mere 
sensory acuteness. Intellectual acuteness, however, involves 
concentrated and sustained attention. Anything that interferes 
with such attention will interfere with intellectual efficiency. 
Like all the lower sensations, the sensations of smell have very 
marked affective qualities ; they are either very pleasant or very 



THE ETHICAL END OF EDUCATION 53 

unpleasant ; hence, they distract attention, — or, to speak more 
accurately, they compel attention to themselves. In the psy- 
chological laboratories, indeed, odors are looked upon as the 
very best distracting stimuli. It can be easily seen that, as 
sustained attention became more and more important in the 
struggle for existence, those senses that furnished distracting 
stimuli would be somewhat at a discount. Consequently the 
forms that possessed such senses would tend to be eliminated, 
and natural selection would gradually work toward a general 
atrophy of the lower senses, provided that they did not con- 
tribute definitely to the survival of the animal. Thus organic 
sensation, while even more highly colored with affection than 
the sense of smell, persisted because its function could not be 
taken up by anything else. Smell, however, was not in this 
class. Its functions could easily be taken over by intelli- 
gence, and consequently its utiHty was practically at an end. 
The rudiments still persist, and can be developed, although in 
no degree approaching their former acuteness. It is plain, 
however, that to spend time and energy in such development is 
simply to replace, as far as possible, a capacity that nature 
has done her best to eliminate. 

We must also refer at this point to another vagary of the 
harmonious development enthusiast, — that, namely, which 
has reference to developing the " powers of observation," — 
meaning, as nearly as one can make out, the capacity to take 
notice of Httle things, and especially of external objects of 
which we obtain knowledge through the sense of sight. With- 
out raising the question whether there is such a thing as a 
" general power of observation," we may admit that the 
capacity to note minutiae in the visual environment may be 
improved through training. But even then, as we shall see 
later, this would probably be limited to specific features of the 
environment. The botanist would take note of minute de- 
tails in plants, the geologist would note differences in earth 
sculpture and rock formation, the artist variations in color, etc. 



54 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

Each of these capacities would doubtless be valuable to the 
person in question, and he would develop his special capacity 
in the course of his special training. For the average man, 
however, the habit of taking note of every little detail of his 
environment, even if it could be developed, would doubtless 
prove more of a curse than a blessing. Through long ages of 
selection, man has gradually acquired the capacity to concen- 
trate — to neglect irrelevant stimuli and to sustain his atten- 
tion over a consecutive line of thought. When Nature has 
done her best to eliminate the tendencies to distraction, why 
should we go out of our way to multiply them ? And here, 
again, one might certainly accuse us of setting up a man of 
straw, were not contemporary educational theory so distress- 
ingly short-sighted. 

These cases may serve to illustrate how the harmonious 
development aim may work out in practice. That they are 
extreme cases is undoubtedly true, and yet they typify the 
mental myopia that characterizes so much of our educa- 
tional philosophy. We seize upon high-sounding phrases with- 
out stopping to inquire, What does all this mean ? And, if the 
matter ended here, the conditions would not be so discourag- 
ing. But the matter does not end here. For not only do we 
theorize blindly, but we apply our theories ruthlessly to our 
practice, tearing away the foundations that have stood the 
test of time, and replacing them with flimsy framework fash- 
ioned from unseasoned timbers. And when, through the 
operation of forces that we might have foreseen and calcu- 
lated, our timbers shrink and warp and rot, we tear them out 
— only to replace them with others of their kind. 

The harmonious development aim, as proposed in 
different forms by various educators, is thus seen to be 
deficient in two essentials: definiteness ^.nd perspective. 
The term "harmonious" is strictly relative; upon its 



THE ETHICAL END OF EDUCATION 5$ 

further definition one's judgment of the aim must surely 
depend. It is not ultimate; the question, "Harmo- 
nious with what?" is still left open. We must have 
a still more remote criterion for the selection of expe- 
riences which are to modify adjustment. There must 
be a broader principle upon which our efforts are to be 
"harmonized." 

/<). (e) The Development of Moral Character. This 
/ aim of education stands upon a different basis from 
that just considered. It is certainly more definite to 
speak of the development of moral character than to 
speak of the harmonious development of an individual's 
capacities. Here, then, we have a possible ultimate 
principle: if the capacities of the individual are to be 
developed in harmony with a recognized standard of 
morahty, then we at least have something tangible upon 
which to build. Having this standard definitely in mind, 
we can select the experiences that will most effectively 
accomplish our purpose. The difficulty Hes in the 
fact that not all men agree as to what constitutes moral- 
ity. Morality is a name; a definite meaning must 
be attached to the word before we can accept it as an 
ultimate principle. 

Of those whose names are prominent in the philoso- 
phy of education, Aristotle and Herbart have, perhaps, 
most consistently argued for moral development as the 
end of education. Aristotle ^ finds in man two tenden- 

* Aristotle : Nicomachean Ethics, ii, 5 ff. 



56 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

cies: the one passionate and brutal, the other intel- 
lectual and human. The latter, he maintains, is the 
basis of morality and to develop it is the work of edu- 
cation. Thus morality, gained in part through educa- 
tion, is the conquest of brute passions, animal impulses, 
by what we may designate as intelligence. In the natural 
man, pleasures of the senses are the motives for conduct ; 
in the moral man, pleasures of the intellect. The moral 
life becomes, then, a "golden mean" in which the mate- 
rial is governed by, but not sacrificed to, the ideal. 

Herbart ^ looks upon education and morality in a similar 
light. "The true and whole work of education," he 
says, "may be summed up in the concept — morality." 
The most important characteristic of Herbart's concep- 
tion of morahty is the "good will." This he explains in 
the following words: "The good will is the steady reso- 
lution of a man to consider himself as an individual 
under the law which is universally binding. ... If 
we think of the power, and resistance as well, with which 
a human being maintains this good will erect in himself 
against those movements of the emotions and desires 
working in opposition to it, then morahty . . . becomes 
to us the virtue, power, action, and efficacy of the wiU 
so determined." Or, to put this clumsy and obscure 
proposition in another way, morality consists in the 
dominance of the lower and more primitive impulses 

1 J. F. Herbart : Esthetic Revelation of the World, in Science of Edtuo 
tion, trans. Felkin, Boston, 1893, p. 57. 



THE ETHICAL END OF EDUCATION 57 

("movements of the emotions and desires") by higher 
ideas; a point of view, it will be seen, quite similar to 
that of Aristotle. 

This bold statement of the dependence of morality 
upon experience is Herbart's lasting contribution to the 
theory of education. It is only another way of saying 
that the child is not born a moral being, but attains to 
morahty only after a long and tedious process of train- 
ing — a process that is justly termed education. The 
Herbartian school of pedagogy has consistently built upon 
this principle, and it is hardly too much to say that the 
unquestioned success of this educational movement is 
most largely due to a clear conception of the funda- 
mental truth here expressed. Whatever differences of 
opinion may appear in the theories proposed by the sev- 
eral followers of Herbart, there is unanimity of opinion 
upon the aim: moral character must be developed, and 
moral character can be developed only by a process of 
education. To this end all means are subordinate. 

Although Herbart died more than sixty years ago, and 
although, hke all other sciences, the science of ethics 
has been almost revolutionized by the doctrine of evo- 
lution, Herbart's conception of morahty is, at basis, the 
prevailing conception to-day. What we commonly term 
moral action is the control of impulses that we have 
inherited from a long line of brute and savage ancestry. 
When we are hungry, the natural impulse would be to 
appropriate whatever article of food we chanced to see. 



58 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

But if an impulse to take food belonging to another should 
enter consciousness, it would probably be inhibited by the 
idea that the food is not ours, that we have no right to it. 
Such is the type of moral action. As a matter of fact, 
we seldom practice this inhibition, because the tendency 
to respect the rights of others is so thoroughly ingrained 
upon our nervous systems that the primitive impulse 
seldom makes itself felt. Nevertheless, it has been edu- 
cation of one kind or another that has impressed this 
tendency to respect the rights of others. The "natural 
man" would not think for a moment of doing so. He 
would never have assimilated experiences that would lead 
him to modify impulse in this way. The distinction be- 
tween Ohver Twist's education at the hands of Fagin 
and the education that the pubHc school attempts to 
give, is a moral distinction. Both have equal rights to 
the term " education," for in both cases experiences are 
fixed for the definite purpose of modifying future action. 
But in Fagin's case the experiences were to modify actfon 
with reference to immoral ends, while the contrary is true 
with the education of the pubUc school. We generally 
understand that when we select experiences for educa- 
tional purposes, we have definitely in mind a measurable 
addition to the child's capital of character; and moral 
character is nothing more nor less that an habitual and 
ideal bias toward moral action. 

lo. (/) The Development of the Socially Efficient In- 
dividual as the Ultimate End of Education. The point 



THE ETHICAL END OF EDUCATION 59 

that Herbart and his followers have failed to emphasize 
is the social essence of morality. It is true that the social 
criterion is imphcit in the Herbartian ethics, as, indeed, 
the same criterion is implicit in practically all ethical 
theories. There is an advantage, however, in using the 
term " socially efficient " in place of the term " moral." 
In the first place, it is more definite ; in the second place, 
it emphasizes the social factor, and, inasmuch as the 
school is supported by society presumably for society's 
benefit, it is only right that this factor should find a defi- 
nite expression in the aim of the school. 

The equivalence of the terms " social " and " moral " has 
been stated rather dogmatically, and demands further explana- 
tion. It is clear that the inborn or brute tendencies which 
exist in man until he is educated away from them are, in 
reality, legitimate products of heredity. Yet they are in their 
essence purely individual, and make for the satisfaction of indi- 
vidual desires. They are opposed to everything that is social 
and altruistic. But the conquest of these tendencies is uni- 
versally agreed to be a process of moral development ; while, 
from its very nature, it is also a process of social development. 
The keynote of morality is self-denial ; yet the very term " self- 
denial" implies the denial of self to others — the true essence 
of the social spirit. 

The doctrine of evolution has revolutionized ethics, inas- 
much as it has revealed the equivalence of the terms " social " 
and " moral." And in rationalizing ethics it has pointed out 
that self-denial, unchecked by the social criterion, may become 
as immoral as self-indulgence. It recognizes to the finest de- 
gree the delicate balance between the individual and society, 
in the neglect of which courage becomes foolhardiness, tem- 



6o THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

perance passes over into asceticism, enthusiasm engenders 
fanaticism, and virtue degenerates into vice. Morality means 
the control of impulse with reference to a social end ; but this 
control assuredly defeats its own purpose when it completely 
annihilates impulse. Absolute self-sacrifice is the greatest of 
virtues only when it can be distinctly proved that the termina- 
tion of the individual life will do more to promote social wel- 
fare than a continuation of the same life would accomplish. 

The world has recognized this fact for ages. One man 
sacrifices his life in order to crush tyranny, and the world 
honors him as a martyr; another meets the same fate for 
the same reason, and the world anathematizes him as an assas- 
sin. Judged by subjective standards, each man's act merits 
the same reward. But the world does not judge acts by the 
subjective standards of the agent. It has an eye to its own wel- 
fare, and it dubs this man a hero and that man a rascal accord- 
ing as the deeds of each are consistent or inconsistent with this 
welfare. This view may be distasteful, but it is relentlessly 
logical. We may rebel against the apotheosis of society and 
the consequent sacrifice of the individual, but all the facts of 
nature range themselves against us. "It is a condition and 
not a theory that confronts us." 

Social efficiency, then, is the standard by which the 
forces of education must select the experiences that are 
to be impressed upon the individual. Every subject of 
instruction, every item of knowledge, every form of reac- 
tion, every detail of habit, must be measured by this 
yardstick. Not What pleasure will this bring to the 
individual, not In what manner will this contribute to 
his harmonious development, not What effect will this 
have upon his bread- winning capacity, — but always, 
Will this subject, or this knowledge, or this reaction, or 



THE ETHICAL END OF EDUCATION 6l 

this habit so function in his after-life that society will 
maximally profit? 

II. The present chapter thus far has been largely a 
statement of opinion — largely speculative. The ques- 
tion of the aim of education is an ethical question, and, 
hke all ethical questions, it seeks, not to estabHsh facts, 
but to set up norms and standards. It imphes a broad 
outlook, based upon a multitude of facts and theories; 
and the pressing problem is to hit upon a norm or stand- 
ard that will be consistent with these facts and theories. 
We have still to continue for a brief space this general 
method of procedure. : Social efficiency has been pro- 
posed as the ultimate aim of education. It now remains 
to state as clearly and exphcitly as possible just what 
social efficiency means. This, too, will be largely in the 
nature of individual opinion. We cannot always wait 
for problems to be solved by the exact methods of sci- 
ence. If we could there would be much less theoriz- 
ing in the world; but it goes without saying that exist- 
ing conditions frequently forbid such delay. What we 
need in education is something definite to tie to. If 
this something be accurate and exact, so much the bet- 
ter; if it cannot be accurate and exact, let it approach 
this ideal as closely as possible, but in any case let it 
be definite. If we have a definite notion of what we are 
trying to accomplish, and if we reahze that this notion 
is subject at all times to the changes that later discoveries 
may necessitate, we shall at least have a chance to make 



62 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

some degree of progress and yet escape the danger that 
is incident to hasty generalization. 
w (i) That person only is socially efficient who is not a 
drag upon society; who, in other words, can "pull his 
own weight," either directly as a productive agent or 
indirectly by guiding, inspiring, or educating others to 
productive effort. 

This requires of a socially efficient individual that he be able 
to earn his livelihood, either in a productive employment or 
in an employment where his energy will be ultimately if not 
directly turned into a productive channel. For example, the 
farmer, the miner, the fisherman, are all engaged in producing, 
in turning the products of nature to the needs of man ; likewise 
the manufacturer who continues this process of conversion, the 
carrier who transports the products to those that need them, 
the tradesman who turns them over to the consumer. Indi- 
rectly, the housewife or the boarding-house keeper who main- 
tains those that are engaged in productive labor is performing a 
necessary function in the productive process. Not less, though 
more indirectly, are the physician who keeps men at a maxi- 
mal degree of productivity ; the clergyman who does his best 
to free their lives from tendencies that would interfere with 
maximal productivity ; the teacher who renders the productive 
capacity more efficient by rendering the producer more intelli- 
gent ; the lawyer, the jurist, and the statesman who adjudicate 
conflicting claims and keep men from wasteful disputes. And, 
finally, there are those whose business it is to amuse and enter- 
tain, and who, by relieving the mind of its tension for a while, 
enable the producer to go back to his work with new energy, 
new courage, and new hope. 

Nor is this merely an academic analysis of society. It is 
confirmed upon every side by the activities of social life. 



THE ETHICAL END OF EDUCATION 63 

Every boy who sets out to secure employment realizes the 
significance of this process before he has applied at a half- 
':' score of places. He finds that it is the man who can fit into 
one or another of these niches that is in demand ; and he is in 
demand because, in one way or another, he adds something 
to the world's prosperity. Incidentally the world repays him 
in kind. 

The man who does not " pull his weight," either directly by 
manipulating an oar, or indirectly by steering the boat, direct- 
ing the oarsmen to concerted eifort, quelling the strife that 
interferes with effort, caring for them when they break down, 
keeping their minds in a healthy condition, inventing devices 
for making their work more efficient and less wasteful, showing 
them how to apply the experiences of their predecessors to the 
end of better service, amusing, encouraging, comforting, inspir- 
ing them to greater effort — such a man steals his ride, and it 
is such a man that we term socially inefficient. Sometimes he 
is thrown overboard, but the world has gradually grown away 
from this remedy because it has discovered that the process 
really does more harm than good, tending in the long run so 
to brutalize the workers as to interfere materially with their 
highest efficiency. 

(2) That man only is socially efficient who, in addition 
to "pulling his ow^n weight," interferes as little as possi- 
ble with the efforts of others. 

This requires of a socially efficient individual that he be 
moral in at least a negative fashion; that he respect the 
rights of others, sacrificing his own pleasure when this inter- 
feres with the productive efforts of his fellows. 

(3) That man is socially most efficient who not only ful- 
fills these two requirements, but also lends his energy 



64 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

consciously and persistently to that further differentiation 
and integration of social forces which is everywhere 
synonymous with progress. 

This demands of a socially efficient individual that he be 
positively moral; that he not only refrain from injuring his 
fellow-workers, but that he contribute something to their 
further advancement; that he repay to the world not only 
the cost of his existence, but as much more as his strength and 
his life span will permit; that he sacrifice his own pleasure, 
not only when its gratification interferes with the rights of 
others, but also when its gratification will not directly or 
indirectly lead to social advancement. 

12. "True education, always personal, will develop 
the social consciousness and promote genuine social cul- 
ture." ^ This is the standard by which it must select 
the experiences that are to modify future adjustment. 
It is obvious that this aim includes the "bread-and- 
butter" aim, without at the same time involving its per- 
nicious subjective tendencies. No man would be socially 
efficient who was unable to earn a livelihood. In gen- 
eral, the better the "living" that he procures, the higher 
the degree of his efficiency. This aim also includes the 
"knowledge" aim. It recognizes the possible value of 
every item of knowledge to social welfare; but it does 
not abstract knowledge from the rest of life or main- 
tain that it is or ever can be a sufficient end in itself. 
It includes the "harmonious development" aim, for it 

1 J. H. W. Stuckenberg: Sociology, New York, 1903, vol. ii, p. 272, 



THE ETHICAL END OF EDUCATION 6$ 

sets up a criterion with which development shall har- 
monize: those capacities of the individual are to be 
developed that will best subserve his social needs. And 
finally it includes the "moral" aim, because, generally 
speaking, the moral standard is the social standard. It 
includes the "culture" aim only in so far as conventional 
requirements are positive factors in social progress. 

The standard of social efiiciency must be rigorously 
applied to the products of the school. The school must 
fit the individual, not for the life of the past, nor for a 
remote Utp^ian future, but for the immediate future, 
the requirements of which can be predicted with reason- 
able certainty. If it fails to do this, the school cannot 
justify its existence.^ 

^ The aim of social efficiency is implicit in all recent educational writ- 
ings. Cf. O'Shea, o/>. cit., p. 95, " Education, then, . . . must seek to 
develop social action ; it can take no account of possible thought or feel- 
ing which exercises no influence upon one's behavior toward his associates 
in the business of life." See also J. Dewey : The School and Society, 
Chicago, 1899; S. T. Dutton: Social Phases 0/ Education, 'HM,, 1^99. 



D 



PART II. THE ACQUISITION OF 
x^ EXPERIENCE 



CHAPTER IV 

The Reading of Meaning into Sense Impressions: 
Apperception 

I. Mind is informed of the condition of the various 
parts of the body and of the happenings in the external 
world by means of sensations. Each of the sense orga^is 
is a nerve structure especially adapted to pick up a certain 
type of information. The eye responds to light impres- 
sions, the ear to sound impressions, the temperature 
spots to impressions of warmth or cold, the nerve endings 
in the tendons to variations in strain, and so on. It 
is necessary that the movements and life of an organism 
should be governed in accordance with bodily needs 
and with the condition of the external world, and sensa- 
tion is the channel through which are reported the changes 
and happenings upon which adjustment must depend. 

Adjustment, therefore, is the end toward which sen- 
sation is the means. If the body could not be adjusted 
in accordance with the reports furnished by the sense 
organs, mind or consciousness would be of no value to 
the organism; it would be "a luxury without a purpose." 

66 



APPERCEPTION 67 

2. But this does not mean that the purposeful char- 
acter of sensation is obvious from the outset. When the 
infant first begins to receive impressions from the outer 
world, these impressions are quite devoid of the sig- 
nificance that an adult would attach to them. The vari- 
ous sensations which the adult would combine and 
interpret as "nurse" or "mother" are, at first, entirely 
without meaning to the infant. Indeed, it is probable 
that they are not joined together in a unitary impres- 
sion, remaining simply a continuous complex of conscious 
changes which constitute, in Professor James's happy 
phrase, "a big, blooming, buzzing Confusion." Gradu- 
ally, however, these chaotic impressions come to be asso- 
ciated with the feeding process, with the satisfaction 
of hunger ; and slowly — very slowly — the vague, undif- 
ferentiated mass of sensation and feeUng is resolved into 
a number of meaningful units — into objects and pro- 
cesses that have a definite reference to the pleasure or 
pain of the infant's existence. This process of unifying 
and making "meaningful" the data furnished by sensa- 
tion is known as apperception. 

3. The fundamental law of apperception is this: 
the unifying of sensations into concrete experiences is 
accomplished through the adjustments to which the sen- 
sations themselves give rise. This statement appears 
to be paradoxical. One might, indeed, infer at first 
sight that the cart has been placed before the horse; 
and so in truth the cart is placed before the horse in 



68 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

the development of experience. The use to which sen- 
sations are put determines their significance to the organ- 
ism — determines, in other words, their meaning. A 
stimulus is presented to an infant and reaction follows. 
The stimulus becomes a sensation; that is, the infant 
is "conscious" of it in a vague, incoherent fashion. A 
reaction follows upon the stimulus, hut the -initiation 
of the reaction is unconscious ; that is, it follows instinc- 
tively or reflexly upon the stimulus and would have 
taken place even though the stimulus had not entered 
consciousness as sensation. But this instinctive reac- 
tion is also reported to consciousness through the agency 
of the strain sensations arising in the tendons ; the mus- 
cular adjustments to which the stimulus gave rise are 
made data of the child's consciousness and become fused 
with the original sensations which the stimulus aroused. 
Repetitions follow, and this association between the sen- 
sation occasioned by the stimulus and the sensations occa- 
sioned by the instinctive adjustment to the stimulus 
becomes firmly fixed. Gradually the stimulus loses its 
vague and incoherent character. It comes to "mean" 
a definite sort of response, the satisfaction of a definite 
need. 

This may be stated more concretely. Consider, for 
example, the sucking reflex caused by the stimulus of 
the nipple upon the child's lips. This reflex may be 
initiated and probably is initiated in the first days of 
the infant's life without an accompanying sensation; 



APPERCEPTION 69 

in other words, the entire process is just as mechanical 
as the adjustment that carries the moth to the flame. 
But there comes a time when the stimulus of the nipple 
on the lips reaches the conscious threshold. A fraction 
of a second later the sensation thus aroused is fused 
with the strain sensations coming from the adjustments 
of sucking. The two together form a unitary impres- 
sion closely correlated with the satisfaction of hunger. 

The sucking reflex is purposive in its character, but 
the infant makes a great many movements which are 
not purposive but rather spontaneous and random, 
and which are caused by an overflow of energy, as it 
were, from the motor centers.^ Suppose that a series 
of these random movements is going on and at the 
same time some object stimulates the sense organs of 
sight, giving the infant a complex of visual sensations. 
In one of the random movements he may grasp the object 
that caused the sensations. Immediately his knowl- 
edge of the object is amplified. His visual sensations 
are supplemented by a large number of pressure and 
strain sensations incident to the movement and the 
grasping. His perception, which before was vague 
and meaningless, becomes more sharply defined, more 
accurate, more adequate. 

But this does not tell the whole story. If consclous- 

1 Cf. Baldwin's theory of " excess discharge," Mental Development : 
Methods and Processes, New York, 1895, pp, 179 ff. ; also Development 
and Evolution, pp. 108 ff. 



70 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

ness merely took cognizance of stimuli and of the reac- 
tions that heredity has provided for such stimuli, it 
would fail to serve a useful purpose. Consciousness, 
however, has a vital function. In the instance of the 
sucking reflex mentioned above, it is apparent that the 
entire process represented by the stimulus on the one 
hand and the reaction on the other would be colored 
by a pleasant affection. This pleasant coloring would 
reenforce or confirm the inherited adjustment. But the 
grasping of the object in the second instance may, on 
the contrary, have resulted unpleasantly. In this case, 
the next time that it presented itself, the tendency would 
be to withdraw from it rather than to grasp it. Thus 
the first effect of experience upon adjustment is, as Mr. 
Hobhouse^ points out, either to confirm or inhibit an 
inherited reaction. 

So much for the very earliest form of interpreting 
the data of sensation. If this account be correct, it 
would seem that the most primitive of mental functions 
has its basis in the inherited structure of the nervous 
system — in the inherited tendencies to reaction that 
operate in the beginning entirely apart from conscious 
control. The threads that are necessary to combine 
the data of sensation into meaningful units — into unified 
perceptions — are furnished by the sensations of strain 
arising from this reaction. Thus the cart is placed before 
the horse because nature has provided instinctive adjust- 

^ L. T. Hobhouse : Mind in Evolution, London, 1901, pp. 85 ff. 



APPERCEPTION 7I 

ments that shall serve the purposes of the organism 
until consciousness is ready to take the reins of conduct 
into its own hands; and, to continue the figure, instinct 
must needs give the budding mind a few lessons in the 
control of adjustment before it relinquishes its authority 
and becomes the servant instead of the master. 

4. The sensations of strain continue throughout life 
to play the role of centralizing or unifying agencies. It 
is they that weave the thread of continuity through the 
disparate elements of our experience and resolve the 
numberless data with which the senses furnish us into 
definite, coherent, and meaningful unities. To consider 
a concrete case: Analysis of my present consciousness 
reveals a complex of visual sensations — light and shade 
and color — which unite to give me the perception of 
a certain form. I can also find in my present conscious- 
ness a sensation of warmth, the sound of a shght buzzing, 
a vague, reproduced idea of touching a hard, smooth 
substance, a revived idea of weight. These are the 
elementary processes that are just now informing me of 
an object in my environment. But I have to analyze 
my consciousness carefully to get these elements out of 
it, so thoroughly are they woven together in the total 
perception of the object itself. If I were not trying 
to "psychologize," I should find no difficulty and httle 
interest in the object before me. I should know it as 
a lamp. That is, I should know it, not as a complex 
of sensations, some visual, some thermal, some cutane- 



72 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

ous, some kinaesthetic ; but I should know it as an ob- 
ject that furnishes me with light. I should "apper- 
ceive " it with reference to the use to which I put it — 
with reference to its relation to my hfe. 

It might be urged, however, that this attempt to analyze 
my consciousness of the lamp really does violence to the 
facts in the case. It is true that I am conscious of the 
lamp as a unified object and that I am not conscious of 
the component sensations as such. But what would 
be the condition of affairs with the infant who sees a 
lamp for the first time? Would the sensations that 
the object arouses in him have any reference to his hfe? 
What reason would he have for separating it from the 
rest of the environment — from the table, the books, 
the papers, and other objects into which we, as adults, 
read significance and meaning and unity? Or con- 
sider the case of the savage who knows nothing of lamps. 
Would not the bare sensations to which the object gives 
rise be meaningless to him ? — not, perhaps, in the degree 
in which they are meaningless to the child, for he would 
try to make something significant out of them, but mean- 
ingless when compared with our own interpretation 
of them? 

It seems clear, then, that the analysis given above, 
while it does violence to the adult conception of things, 
really lays bare the elements that would be operative 
in the mind of the infant or the savage. That is, it 
discloses the original meaningless "stuff" out of which 



APPERCEPTION 73 

experience gradually elaborates a meaningful world. 
The synthesis of chaotic elements into meaningful units 
is made possible by the fact that certain of these elements 
stand in a definite relation to some need^pt the oigamsm. 
This need is represented by a pleasant or unpleasant 
affective coloring, and the relation of sense impressions 
to this need is made manifest to mind by the data of bodily 
adjustment reported through the agency of strain sensa- 
tions. In adult life, as in the first mental functionings 
of infancy, the strain sensations form the threads that 
weave together the otherwise disconnected strands of 
consciousness. The factor of use is the constant factor 
in all our experiences with objects and processes of the 
outer world. Chairs, for example, may difiler in every 
imaginable quality, — in shape, in size, in color, in mate- 
rial. But there is one thing that is constant in our expe- 
riences with the objects to which we give the name 
"chair," and that is use or function. While qualita- 
tive differences are represented in mind by the sensations 
of sight, hearing, pressure, taste, smell, etc., use or func- 
tion is represented by the sensations of strain that origi- 
nate in bodily adjustment. 

The importance of the sensations of strain in reading unity 
and meaning into sense impressions has only recently been 
recognized. That they play a prominent role in the process of 
attention (essentially a unifying or centralizing process) was 
clearly shown by Ribot* some years ago, but this represents 

ITh. Ribot: Psychology of Attention, English trans., Chicago, 1889, 



74 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

only one phase of their manifold duties. Baldwin ^ points out 
that the motor processes are extremely important in recogni- 
tion and assimilation : " The sense of assimilation in each suc- 
cessive appearance of the same objective content varies with 
the different motor shades of attention, just as it also varies for 
the different sense qualities by reason of the different motor 
associations, strains, etc., involved in accommodating to the 
different sense qualities." And again, " Ev-ery two elements.-^ 
whatever, connected together in consciousness, are so o nly 
because they have motor effects in common.'''' Stout ^ also calls 
attention in no uncertain terms to the fundamental significance 
of the kinsesthetic elements : " Perceptual process is penetrated 
through and through by experiences of movement. Passive 
sensations only serve to guide and define motor activities." 

Still more definite and tangible is the position recently taken 
by Professor King :^ " The differentiation of the special forms 
of sense experience from the primary general consciousness takes 
place as a function of the child's increasing demands for fuller 
activity. The connections are made possible on the sensory 
side because they have first occurred, or been made necessary, 
on the active side. The infant repeatedly finds the same com- 
plexes of sensations connected with a certain set of activities. 
JJl'Ui^^timiy is a unit, and the group of eye, ear, and tactual 
sensations become inextricably bound up with the act, and per- 
haps come to be symbolic of it ; the reinstatement of one of the 
sensations serving to call up the images of the others as it sets 
up the activity for which it stands. The unity in the reference 
of the sensations comes in on the side of the act. Later, when 
the object is known as an object, the sensations are easily trans- 
ferred to it, or, rather, the object seen is recognized as the one 

1 J. M. Baldwin: Mental Development, New York, 1895, pp. 310 ff. 

2 G. T. Stout: Analytic Psychology, London, 1896, vol. i, pp. 212-223; 
Manual of Psychology, New York, 1899, pp. 64, 464-467. 

3 Irving King : Psychology of Child Development, Chicago, 1903, pp 
36-37- 



APPERCEPTION 75 

touched or seen, because it has been the basis of a previous single 
activity." And again (p. 37) : " If it were not for the connecting 
activity, there would be absolutely no ground on which the senses 
could be brought together in their reference and thus become 
more than mere undefined modifications of the general tonus of 
consciousness. ... It is only as something is done with the 
object, and the various senses cooperate in the doing, that 
their unity of reference appears. . . . The child's first objects 
are really certain possible activities that are symbolized by cer- 
tain sensations involved in performing the acts." 

5. That the strain sensations really fulfill the impor- 
tant function of weaving together the conscious elements " 
is thus seen to be supported by the testimony of con- 
temporary investigators. It may not be amiss, however, 
to detail some of the direct evidence that lends support 
to this contention. This evidence may be classified 
under three heads: (a) pathological, (b) anatomical, 
and (c) genetic.-^ 

(a) Pathological. Baldwin^ has called attention to the 
mental disturbance known as apraxia as throwing light upon 
this problem. Patients who are afflicted with this disease fail 
to read meaning or significance into certain of the sensations 
that come to them from the outer world. They lack the 
capacity to grasp the significance which the normal mind at- 
taches to objects of common use. This does not imply that 
there is a disturbance in the functioning of the sense organs, or 

^ It would take us too far afield to note the long series of investigations 
through which the strain sensations came to be recognized as integral 
(and integrating) elements of consciousness. For this historical data the 
reader is referred to W. A. Lay : Experimentelle Didakiik, Wiesbaden, 
1903, pp. 10 ff. 

^ J. M. Baldwin: Mental Development, p. 311. 



^6 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

of the nerves that carry the impressions to the cortex, or of the 
nerves that innervate the muscles. The trouble is " central " ; 
it Hes in the cortex itself. Nor is it in the centers that receive 
the impressions, nor yet in the centers that send the im- 
pressions outward. It is rather in the centers in which the 
incoming impressions are associated with other impressions 
and with the residua that past experiences have left in the 
form of modifications of nerve structure. 

As far as his use of the object is concerned, the patient 
afflicted with this disease approximates the condition of the 
infant. He sees the object or touches it, just as the infant 
may, but the past experiences that should enable him to read 
into it its normal meaning have in some way become disso- 
ciated from the impressions of sight and touch. Such a patient 
may use chairs or books for firewood, confuse the use of such 
articles as washbowls and drinking cups (drinking out of the 
one and attempting to wash in the other), and in similar ways 
show that he has no appreciation of the use to which different 
objects are normally put.^ 

From a study of apraxia it seems clear that meaning and 
use are intimately connected with one another, and that loss 
of meaning carries with it loss of use and vice versa. Use, 
however, must be represented in consciousness by some form 
of sensation, and the kinaesthetic or motor elements involved 
in sensations of strain seem to be the natural agencies for 
fulfilUng this function. 

ip) Anatomical, (i) The ground plan of the nervous sys- 
tem — the arrangement of sensory systems, association systems, 
and motor systems ^ — may be looked upon as substantial evi- 
dence that mind exists for the purpose of adjusting the organism 
to its environment consistently with reports informing of this 
environment. In harmony with this general arrangement, we 

1 Cf. J. Collins : The Faculty of Speech : A Study of Aphasia, New York, 
1898, pp. 293 f. 

2 L. F. Barker: The Nervous System, New York, 1899, ch. xxvi. 



APPERCEPTION 77 

must conclude that the ultimate standard or test of all nervous 
action is adjustment. It must be in terms of adjusted response 
that the intermediate sensory and intellectual processes acquire 
meaning and significance. 

(2) Increase in intelligence in the animal series is correlated 
with increase in delicacy and nicety of motor coordination. 
On the anatomical side, this delicacy of coordination is repre- 
sented by an increase in the diameter of the pyramidal tracts 
— large bundles of fibers that carry the motor impulses from 
the cerebral cortex to centers in the ventral and lateral portions 
of the spinal cord, whence their impressions are distributed along 
the motor nerves to the muscles. The greater the number of 
fibers, the more complete is the control that the higher centers 
exercise over the bodily movements, and the more accurate are 
the coordinations and adjustments with which the organism 
can meet definite situations of the environment. As one would 
naturally expect, the diameter of the pyramidal tracts is found 
to be relatively much greater in man than in the lower animals. 

(3) There are recognized in the cerebral cortex several 
distinct areas that are concerned with the registry of different 
sensations. Pressure, temperature, organic, and kinsesthetic 
(motor) sensations are located in the great central region, for- 
merly called the " motor " zone, but now generally recognized 
as containing sensory as well as motor centers, and known as 
the " somsesthetic " area. The visual sensations are registered 
in the occipital lobes, the auditory sensations in the temporal 
lobes, the smell sensations in the region of the hippocampal 
gyre, etc. All together, however, these various sense areas oc- 
cupy only about one third of the surface of the cerebral hemi- 
spheres. For many years, physiologists were puzzled as to what 
function they should ascribe to the remaining areas of the cortex. 
The great region of the frontal lobes, the area between the 
parietal and occipital lobes, the ventral portions of the temporal 
lobes, and the Island of Reil, which together occupy two thirds 
of the cortical surface, must have some function. So uncer- 



y8 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

tain were the data concerning these regions, that they came 
to be known as the " silent areas " of the cortex. 

To Professor Paul Flechsig of Leipzig must be given the 
credit for clearing up the mystery of these silent areas.^ After 
years of study and investigation, he finally discovered a very 
significant fact; namely, that cells in the silent areas are pecul- 
iar in that they have no direct connection with the lower 
centers of the midbrain and the cord ; that is, they neither 
receive impressions from the outer world nor send "orders" 
directly to the muscles. They are, however, connected by 
fibers with the sense areas. For example, the cells in the ex- 
tensive region lying between the occipital, parietal, and tem- 
poral lobes receive fibers from the cells of the visual, auditory, 
and somaesthetic ireas. The inference almost forces itself 
upon one that these intermediate areas function in connecting 
the different sense areas. In the parieto-occipital region, for 
example, visual, auditory, and somaesthetic impressions may be 
united to form meaningful complexes — perceptions and ideas 
— involving all these sense elements. 

If this position taken by Flechsig is valid, — and it is supported 
by a large mass of evidence from other sources, such as pathol- 
ogy and experimental physiology, — the confirmation that it 
lends to our hypothesis of the fundamental unifying function 
of the motor or kinaesthetic elements is plainly apparent. The 
great somaesthetic area in which are registered the sensations 
of movement is situated centrally as regards the remaining 
sense areas. It is directly contiguous to all the great " associa- 
tion centers " of Flechsig, and it doubtless sends association 
fibers into all these areas and functions thoroughly as a centra- 
lizing and unifying agency. * 

1 Wundt's earlier hypothesis, that the frontal lobes are concerned with 
apperception rather than sensation, was an important suggestion. 

2 P. Flechsig : Ueber die Localisation der geistigen Vorgdtige, Leipzig, 
1896; Gehirn und Seele, Leipzig, 1896. 



y^ 



> 



APPERCEPTION 79 



{c) Genetic. Interesting testimony in support of our hy- 
pothesis is furnished by studies of children's vocabularies and 
dictionaries. In a "Boy's Dictionary" of two hundred and 
fifteen words, published by Miss Fannie E. Wolff, and reported 
by Chamberlain,^ the following definitions appear : — 

Kiss is if you hug and kiss somebody. 

Mast is what holds the sail up top of a ship. 

Milk is something like cream. 

Nail is something to put things together. 

Nut is something with a shell good to eat. 

Open is if the door is not closed. 

Opera is a house where you see men and ladies act. 

Pickle is something green to eat. 

Quarrel is if you begin a little fight. 

Ring is what you wear on your finger. 

Saw is if you see something, after you see it you saw it. 

Tall is if a tree is very big. 

Ugly is if a thing is not nice at all. 

Vain is if you always look in the glass. 

Chamberlain also cites the following definitions given by a 
little girl six years old : — 

Brain : What you think with in your head, and the more 
you think the more crinkles there are. 

Death : When you have left oflF breathing and the heart 
stops also. 

Binet'^ quotes the following as characteristic definitions given 
by his daughters two and one half and four and one half years 

old: — 

A knife is to cut meat. 
A clock is to see the time. 
A dog is to have by one. 

1 A. F. Chamberlain : The Child, pp. 146 ff. 

* A. Binet: in Revue Philosophique, vol. xxx, pp. 582-611, cited by 
Chamberlain, p. 147. 



80 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

An armchair is to sit in. 

A garden is to walk in. 

A potato is to eat with meat. 

A bird means swallows. 

Village means one sees everybody pass. 

From these definitions it would appear that the factor of use 
or function is the predominant factor in the child's conception 
of an object. It is the one constant factor amidst a diversity of 
qualities. Professor Earl Barnes^ gives some statistical results 
that serve to generaUze this conclusion with regard to children : — 

"The results, based on fifty examination papers from boys 
and fifty from girls of each age between six and fifteen years 
(in all two thousand children sent in returns) contained, as col- 
lated, 37,136 statements about the thirty-eight nouns, defini- 
tions of which had been requested. Here, again, it seems, the 
uses and activities of objects appeal to children before structure, 
form, color, etc. Of the definitions directly reporting use, the 
proportion for each of the years is as follows : 79.49 %, 
62.95%, 63.83%, 57.07%, 43-81 %, 43-69%, 33-74%, 
37-75 %» 30-62 %, — or, for all ages, 45.58 %." 

6. A clear conception of the fundamental r61e that the 
kinaesthetic elements play in the basal process of edu- 
cation — the acquisition of experience — is essential 
to an adequate construction of educational principles. 
As Lay 2 truthfully says, "Pedagogy and didactics 
have hitherto neglected the kinaesthetic sensations." 
In a later section it will be shown that primary educa-;^ 
tion has recently come through a process of selection 
and rejection to hit upon the factor of use or function 

^ Quoted by Chamberlain, p. 148. 

* W. A. Lay : Experimentelle Didaktik, p. 10, 



APPERCEPTION 8 I 

as the comer stone of its philosophy. The emphasis 
of the industrial feature in the constructive work of the 
lower grades, the manual training and domestic science 
of the upper grades, and the agricultural instruction in 
the rural schools are evidence that the importance of 
the kineesthetic element is implicitly recognized by con- 
temporary pedagogy. One of the objects of the present 
■discussion is to make this recognition explicit. . fy*/'- *• 
7. To summarize: The term "experience" implies 
that certain mental processes acquire significance to the 
life of the organism. The "raw materials" of expe- 
rience are the elementary processes of consciousness 
— sensation and affection. The making of these pro- 
cesses in their combinations significant — the reading 
of "meaning" into them — is technically termed 
" apperception." ^ Sensations that inform of the envi- 

^ It is unfortunate that one must use a term that has fallen into some- 
thing so akin to disrepute as has the term " apperception." A few years 
ago Professor James severely criticised certain educational writers and pub- 
lishers for attempting to foist upon the rank and file of teachers a number 
of so-called works upon educational psychology, purporting to explain the 
hidden meaning of obscure technical terms. An understanding of these 
terms, it was intimated, would furnish an o/>en sesame to successful teach- 
ing, and among them apperception was easily the most mysterious and 
bewildering. While Professor James was justified in exposing the shallow- 
ness of these works, one must certainly admit that he went rather farther 
than the facts seemed to warrant. That writers of indifferent psychological 
training should have placed the term " apperception " under a temporary 
shadow of distrust is assuredly not a sufficient ground'for dismissing the 
concept as merely a " convenient name for a process to which every teacher 
must frequently refer," but which "psychology itself can easily dispense 
with." True, as James says, " it verily means nothing more than the act 
of taking a thing into the mind." And true it is that digestion means 



82 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

ronment are interpreted, not according to their in- 
trinsic nature, but according to their reference to the 
needs of the organism. This last statement involves 
some important pedagogical corollaries which will be 
discussed in the following chapter. 

nothing more than taking food material into the body. But just as no 
physiologist would think of dismissing digestion with so superficial a 
definition, so a psychologist should not try to conceal the fact that the 
process which this name covers, and which is so easily described as to its 
general function, is one that is most complex and baffling when an attempt 
is made to analyze it. (Cf. W. James : Talis to Teachers on Psychology, 
etc., New York, 1899, pp. 155-16SO 



CHAPTER V 

The Needs of the Organism as determining 
Apperception: Degrees of Apperception and 
Apperceptive Systems 

I. Mind interprets impressions from the outer world, 
not according to their intrinsic nature, but according 
to their relation to the needs of the organism. These 
needs may be roughly grouped into two great classes: 
(a) primitive needs, correlated with the fundamental 
instincts or tendencies that man has inherited from his 
brute and savage ancestry; and (b) acquired needs, cor-, 
related with those readjustments and modifications of 
primitive tendencies that have been made necessary by 
the changed conditions of human life, and particularly 
by the growth of social forces as opposed to individual 
forces. 

The primitive needs can be reduced to one or the 
other of two fundamental types of instinct: (a) self-pres- 
ervation, and (b) race perpetuation; or, more briefly, 
the food instinct and the sex instinct. When the former 
is predominant, sensations that inform of the environ- 
ment are interpreted — apperceived — with reference 
to self-preservation; objects of the external world appeal 

83 



84 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

to one, as food, shelter, weapons, etc. When the latter 
instinct is predominant, one interprets objects of the 
outer world with reference to the sex impulse — as 
decoration, means of attraction, etc. 

With the advance of social organization, however, 
these primitive needs, represented ultimately by one or 
the other of these two fundamental instincts, become 
more and more remote, more and more overlaid by 
intermediate processes. One no longer apperceives ob- 
jects with reference to their direct bearing upon self- 
preservation or race perpetuation. One no longer works 
for the immediate gratification of desire or appetite. 
These may be the ultimate driving forces, but they are 
frequently lost to view in the complication of the pro- 
cesses that intervene. 

2. Degrees of Apperception. Apperceptive functions 
may, therefore, be classed into (i) those of low degree, 
and (2) those of high degree, according as one reads a 
primitive or complex meaning into sense impressions. 
For example : the apperception of a teacup as a missile 
to be hurled at a supposed enemy is an apperception of 
low degree; the apperception of the same group of im- 
pressions (through which we "know" the teacup) as 
an object to drink from is an apperception of a higher 
degree ; while the apperception of a teacup as an object 
of beauty — a delicate piece of bric-a-brac — is an 
apperception of a still higher degree. In every case 
the externally aroused sensations that inform us of the 



DEGREES OF APPERCEPTION 85 

teacup are the same; but in every case we read a dif- 
ferent meaning into these sensations. 

The patient, afflicted with apraxia may use a chair 
as a club or as firewood. This means that his higher 
apperceptive functions have been cut away. He has 
been reduced to the plane of primitive needs. The 
normal individual uses a chair to sit in; he apperceives 
it with reference to this need, which is obviously of a 
later growth than the use of an object as a club or weapon. 
But the antiquarian may see the same chair entirely apart 
from its conventional use; he may apperceive it as a 
representative of some forgotten craftsmanship — some 
"lost art" of wood carving, perhaps. 

These examples may serve to clear up the significance 
of the terms "primitive" and "acquired." The use 
of objects as utensils or as articles of furniture is not 
instinctive; it must be "learned." And it goes without 
saying that the apperception of an object entirely apart 
from its "utihty" is a product not of heredity but of 
acquisition. 

3. The reactions that form the important features in 
apperceptions of low degree involve the larger move- 
ments of the body. Hurhng and striking are crude 
movements : the muscles that are brought into play are 
the more fundamental, the more deeply seated; the co- 
ordinations are few and comparatively coarse. Drink- 
ing from a cup, however, involves movements slightly 
more delicate : it brings into play smaller and less fun- 



86 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

damental muscles; the adjustments are more complex 
and require a greater nicety of coordination. Finally, 
when, for example, one admires a delicate, fragile piece 
of bric-a-brac, — a masterpiece of ceramic art, — the 
motor adjustments and coordinations are of the most 
refined character. To one whose smaller muscles have 
had no training, this appreciation is impossible. The 
keen delight of the enthusiast is conditioned by a highly 
organized nervous system. To the child, to the savage, 
to the boor, these refinements of art are meaningless. 
He cannot apperceive because the complex and highly 
organized system of associations and reactions that 
means apperception is lacking. 

Degrees of apperception do not seem to have been recog- 
nized by the Herbartian writers, who have made the most 
exhaustive analyses of the general process. Herbart^ himself 
ascribes the difference between the apperception of the child 
and that of the adult to a lack of experience upon the part of 
the former. He states the law : " Apperception is the less 
probable the more meager the experience of the individual. 
Children and uncultured men apperceive but little, because 
there is lacking in them a mass of apperceiving ideas." 

It is, however, a mistake to assume that children and uncul- 
tured men apperceive little. They may apperceive as much as 
the cultured adult, but they apperceive in a different way — on 
a lower level. They " see things " in the light of their own 
simple, primitive needs, not in the light of the acquired and 
highly complex needs of the adult. They read into sense 
impressions a primitive, uncultured meaning. 

1 J. F. Herbart : Psychologic ah Wissenschaft, pt. ii, p. 197, in Har> 
tenstein's edition, Sdmmtliche Werke, Leipzig, 1850, Bd. v. 



DEGREES OF APPERCEPTION Sj 

4. Apperceptive Systems. The mental disturbance 
known as apraxia has been cited to illustrate degrees of 
apperception. Another characteristic of the appercep- 
tive process is revealed in a related mental disturbance, 
sensory aphasia. This disease is similar to apraxia, 
except that the loss of meaning affects words rather 
than objects. When one loses the capacity to interpret 
spoken words, the affliction is termed "auditory aphasia" ; 
when the capacity to interpret written or printed words 
is disturbed, the affliction is known as "visual aphasia." 
The two forms together constitute sensory aphasia — 
a genus, as it were, of which the others are species. 
In either auditory or visual aphasia there need be no 
disturbance of hearing or vision as such. The patient 
hears the word, but it is simply a complex of meaning- 
less sounds; he sees the word, but it is merely a jumble 
of marks upon a white page. The significance that 
years of experience have put into these sensations has 
been cut away. But, at the same time, the meaning of 
auditory and visual impressions not connected with lan- 
guage is not necessarily lost. The patient may recognize 
objects of everyday use in a normal fashion; he may 
recognize sounds other than those connected with speech, 
and react appropriately to them. 

That sensory aphasia is really a disturbance of apper- 
ception is clearly brought out by a case of the visual 
variety described by Dbjerine.^ A merchant lost the 

1 Cited by J. Collins : The Faculty of Speech, pp. 262 f. 



88 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

ability to put meaning into printed or written words and 
sentences — the ability to read. At the same time, how- 
ever, he found no difficulty in recognizing letters that 
he used arbitrarily as price marks on his goods. That is, 
the very same sense contents — letters — were full of 
meaning to him in one phase of his life (selHng goods), 
but utterly devoid of meaning in another phase (reading). 
Put in a more general way, this means that the same 
complex of sensations means different things to the same 
individual at different times. 

To-day I meet my students in their classes ; to-night I meet 
the same students at a social gathering. They are the same 
individuals, but my attitude toward them has changed. I quiz 
them in their classes in a manner that would stamp me as a 
bore if I did it at a social gathering. This morning I dissect 
calves' brains at the laboratory ; at noon I have calves* brains 
served up for lunch. The brains are similar, but my attitude 
toward them has changed. The physician meets a patient in 
his office. As a physician, he looks upon the patient in a pro- 
fessional light. He inquires into the workings of his heart, his 
lungs, his digestive tract. The patient is to him a bundle of 
tissues, and it is the physician's business to see that these tis- 
sues work together harmoniously. Two hours later the same 
physician meets the same patient socially. The professional 
attitude is no longer prominent. The patient is a friend to 
be amused with an anecdote, or he is a rival at billiards, or he 
is, perhaps, a competitor for feminine preference. And yet, 
intrinsically speaking, the patient is no less a bundle of tissues 
than he was earlier in the day. He is the same patient, and 
the physician knows him through the same sense complexes, 
but the " meaning " that the patient has for the physician is 
quite different. 



DEGREES OF APPERCEPTION 89 

The tendencies to reaction, therefore, — whether in- 
herited or acquired, — come to be systematized, grouped 
together, with reference to large functions of life.^ One 
has different attitudes toward things, — a professional at- 
titude, a social attitude, a work attitude, a play attitude, 
etc. According as one has one or another of these atti- 
tudes, one interprets sensations in this way or that, A 
group of systematized tendencies to reaction is termed 
an " apperceptive system." Each system represents an 
adjustment to a phase of the environment, which adjustment 
is constant with us while we are in a certain mood. A 
system may therefore be of high or low degree, according 
as it refers to a primitive or a highly developed need of 
the individual. The apperceptive system that is operative 
when the Dhysician sees in his patient only a bundle of 
tissues and that which is operative when he sees in the 
same patient a social equal are both systems of relatively 
high degree; but the system that operates when I look 
upon a calf's brain as an intricately comphcated organ 
for controlling action is higher than that by which I 
apperceive a similar brain as an article of food. 

The tendency, of course, is for one to get into a "rut" 
with advancing years. This means that a single large 
apperceptive system comes to function practically to the 
exclusion of all others. I should indeed be fortunate if 
I could lose entirely my attitude as teacher when I meet 
my students socially. The physician would be equally 

* Cf. G. F. Stout : Groundwork of Psychology , New York, 1903, pp. 7-9. 



90 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

fortunate if he could drop entirely his professional atti- 
tude when he meets his patients socially. The ability 
thus to change one's larger apperceptive systems as one 
changes one's coat varies with different individuals and 
at different ages. The child in his play adjustments 
represents, perhaps, the maximal plasticity of appercep- 
tive systems. "Let's play house. Let's pretend that 
this stone is a table ! " Straightway the stone becomes 
a table, only to be changed a half hour later into a stove, 
a store, a steamboat, or a wagon.^ To the adult the 
stone is now perhaps a representative of some geological 
stratum; again, it may be material for a good horse 
block; again, a sample of excellent building material. 
But the chances are that, according as the adult is a geol- 
ogist, a horseman, or an architect, one or another of these 
apperceptive systems will overshadow all the others. The 
merchant cited by Dfejerine was undoubtedly more a 
merchant than a man of letters. The apperceptive 
system that represented his commercial activities was, 
comparatively speaking, fundamental in his life. Con- 
sequently, when disintegration set in, it failed to affect 
that part of his experience. 

5. Both heredity and experience have a share in deter- 
mining the structure of the larger apperceptive systems. 

^ The larger systems of apperception are well illustrated by the different 
attitudes of children, which in turn are manifested by entirely distinct 
vocabularies. The boy has one set of words and constructions which he 
uses with his playmates and another set for the schoolroom. He never 
confuses the two. 



DEGREES OF APPERCEPTION 9I 

Every individual inherits certain peculiarities of nervous 
structure that manifest themselves in certain tendencies 
to reaction. One person is slow and deliberate, another 
quick and impetuous, another morose and brooding, 
another gay and cheerful. These "predispositions" 
to reaction obviously have an important influence upon 
the way in which one "looks at things." It is common 
to speak of the dyspeptic as viewing the world through 
blue spectacles. His dyspepsia may be due to inherited 
tendencies, but it may, just as certainly, be due to envi- 
ronmental forces. And so it is with all cases of tem- 
perament or mood. One cannot draw a line accurately 
between the influences of heredity and the influences of 
experience. But here, as elsewhere, it is safe to say 
that the latter is by far the more important factor. In 
either case some force has been at work to give the 
nervous structure a peculiar bent. 

This is what Professor Titchener ^ refers to when he 
diefines apperception as a "perception whose character is 
determined wholly or chiefly by the peculiar tendencies 
of a nervous system rather than by the nature of the 
thing perceived." Needless to say, the great bulk of one's 
perceptions are determined in this way. This fact is 
impressed more forcibly when one remembers that the 
pecuUar tendencies provided for by heredity are, dur- 
ing the process of growth, supplemented in far greater 
number by the peculiar tendencies due to modifica- 

1 E. B. Titchener: A Primer of Psychology, New York, 1899, p. 88. 



92 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

tions of nerve structure through experience with the 
environment. 

It is this condition that renders it so difficult to eliminate 
the "personal equation" from scientific observation. So com- 
pletely are our perceptions colored by the hues and tints of our 
peculiar apperceptive systems, that only by the most strenuous 
effort are we enabled to separate in any act of observation what 
we really see from what we " think " we see. 

6. Apperceptive systems of low degree are most pro- 
foundly influenced by inherited tendencies. Self-pres- 
ervation is the first law of nature. Race perpetuation 
might analogously be called the second law of nature. 
These fundamental instincts lie at the basis of primitive 
apperceptions; but these primitive systems come, in 
course of time, to be overlaid with, and modified by, 
others of higher degree. Experience is elaborated by 
the exigencies of a complex social environment. The 
relation of our surroundings to our individual existence 
is determined by social forms and usages that all but 
rob life of its primitive significance. Yet the "all but 
rob" is a saving clause. Directly or remotely, the manner 
in which mind interprets or apperceives new impressions 
is determined by the relation that these impressions bear 
to the existence and survival of the organism. It is a 
maxim of pedagogy that apperception functions most 
readily along the lines of interest. Interest attaches 
most strongly to that which has a vital relation to one's 
well-being. But in a social environment, one's well- 



DEGREES OF APPERCEPTION 93 

being is determined by factors far different from those 
that operate in a purely "natural" environment. 

Civilization means an overlaying of selfish impulses 
with impulses of a social nature ; ^ in such a way, how- 
ever, that the former are not entirely eradicated, but 
rather chastened and subdued in the light of reason. 
And so the business of the school is to overlay the lower 
apperceptive systems with those of higher degree; 
but the school must never lose sight of the fact that the 
well-being of the individual always Hes, directly or re- 
motely, at the basis of dominant motives. The well- 
being of the individual finds its subjective counterpart 
in pleasure. But there are pleasures of a high order 
and of a low order. The essence of civihzation is that 
remote and not immediate pleasures govern conduct; 
remote and not immediate ends determine action. And 
the capacity of man to govern his conduct by remote 
ends depends entirely upon a process of education. This 
proposition will be the thesis of the next chapter. 

^ Mr. Hobhouse takes a different view of this matter. "The concep- 
tion of a primitive egoism on which sociability is somehow overlaid is 
without foundation either in biology or in psychology. . . . For the im- 
pulses of sex and provision for the young, if not unselfish, at least do not 
tend to self-maintenance." {Mind in Evolution, London, 1901, pp. 339 f.) 
It is certainly true, as Mr. Hobhouse says, that the parental and sexual 
impulses make for the preservation of the race, but it is none the less true 
that subjectively the working out of these instincts satisfies an immediatt 
and individual desire. The racial or altruistic implication is, after all, 
only an implication, as the same writer so clearly points out in a later 
chapter (ch. xvii), and the task of civilization, as he himself states it, is to 
make this implied or unconscious altruism explicit or conscious. 



94 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

7. Thus far the term " apperceptive system " has been 
used to cover a group of tendencies that determine the 
meaning or significance that is read into any given com- 
plex of sense impressions. The individual's "moods" 
and "attitudes" constitute "large" apperceptive systems. 
These may be conditioned either by heredity or by envi- 
ronment, but the latter factor is by far the more impor- 
tant. In general, then, the majority of the apperceptive 
systems that operate in the normal individual may be 
looked upon as resultants of a vast number of experi- 
ences or, briefly, as condensed experiences. The "large" 
apperceptive systems that have been mentioned consti- 
tute only a specific class. Whenever one has a number 
of experiences that have been condensed and systema- 
tized, one has an apperceptive system. It may be 
large or small, according to the variety and scope of the 
experiences that it covers, but in either case it fulfills 
an important function in the economy of mental Ufe, as 
will be shown in a later section. 



CHAPTER VI 

Attention, Interest, and Will in the Light of 
Apperception: the Doctrine of Work 

I. The following conclusions result from the devel- 
opment of the last two chapters: (i) In the beginning, 
experiences are assimilated with reference to the primi- 
tive needs of the organism, such needs being represented 
by the instincts. (2) As development continues, the 
primitive needs come to be overshadowed by acquired 
needs; these are represented by outgrowths of instinct 
due to the modifying operation of experience ; thus expe- 
riences may be said to grow upon themselves — once 
grafted upon instincts, they assimilate one another. 
(3) With continued development, fairly constant systems 
of experience come to be organized to which new expe- 
riences are referred. (4) Assimilation with reference 
to a primitive instinct is an apperception of low degree; 
assimilation with reference to an acquired need is an 
apperception of higher degree — the higher, the more 
remote is the need from the primitive instinct. (5) The 
business of education is to replace the lower apper- 
ceptive systems with those of higher degree — to develop 
the higher needs and cater to them. The task of the 

95 



g6 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

present chapter is to show that the higher needs can be 
developed only through a process of. education. To this 
end it will first be necessary to examine the relations 
-:_^that exist between apperception and attention. 

2. Attention is best described as a state of conscious- 
ness that presents a focus and a margin.^ One group 
of ideas or perceptions occupies the focus of conscious- 
ness for the time being as the thing "attended to"; the 
remaining components of consciousness are relatively 
vague and indistinct ideas or perceptions, grouped about 
the central or focal idea.^ 

In listening to an orchestral selection, for example, the per- 
ceptions of timbre, interval, rhythm, etc., occupy the focus of 
consciousness. Grouped about this focal complex are various 
other elements : visual data concerning the players and their 
instruments; touch and kinaesthetic data concerning the posi- 
tion of the body, pressure of the clothing, and the like ; thermal 
data concerning the temperature of the room ; and all these 
mingled with ideas, the residua of past experiences, reawakened 
by the music, or by other of these data. 

3. There are four important differences between the 
marginal and focal constituents of consciousness : (a) the 
focal idea or perception is the clearer ; (b) it is the more 
enduring; (c) it is the more easily revived; and (d) it 

1 Cf. O. Kulpe : Outlines of Psychology, trans. Titchener, London, 1895, 
pp. 423 ff. 

2 It is generally agreed by psychologists that but one datum of con- 
sciousness can occupy the focus of the conscious field at a given instant of 
time. For the results of a careful analysis of the literature upon this 
point, see J. P. Hylan, " The Distribution of Attention," in Psychological 
Review, 1903, vol. x, pp. 373-403, 498-534- 



THE DOCTRINE OF WORK 97 

is the more associable. It follows from this that a con- 
scious process is valuable to an organism because oj atten- 
tion to that process; for the fact that the process attended 
to is clear, enduring, revivable, and associable means 
that it will function more readily in later adjustments, 
and this is the characteristic that gives to conscious- 
ness its value in the life process. Therefore an answer 
to the question, "How does an idea or perception get 
into the focus of consciousness?" will form a very impor- 
tant part of the answer to the more general question, 
"How are experiences acquired?" The conditions of 
focalization are thoroughly discussed by text-books and 
treatises on psychology and need be only briefly referred 
to at this point.^ 

4. {a) Passive Attention. There are certain impres- 
sions to which attention is involuntarily or spontaneously 
directed. One attends "naturally" to intense stimuli 
of all kinds, — to loud noises, bright lights, sharp pains, 
etc. ; one attends naturally to movement ; one attends 
naturally to contrasts. The tendency to focalize such 
stimuli is inborn or innate. It is to be classed among 
the inherited tendencies of the nervous system which 
were mentioned in a previous chapter. "In the order of 

^ The classification of the forms of attention that follows is based upon 
that presented by Professor Titchener, in his Primer of Psychology, New 
York, 1899, ch. v. As will be seen in the sequel, it possesses certain ad- 
vantages over a twofold division. A fourfold division, based upon a 
similar principle, is presented by Mr. Stout. {Groundwork of Psychology, 
ch. vi.) 



V 



98 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

nature," says Professor Brooks, "each stimulus is a sign 
with a significance." In the early history of mind, 
strong stimuH were danger signals, and the animal's 
survival was conditioned upon its ability to notice them 
and react appropriately to them. Hence the forms pos- 
sessing this capacity were "naturally selected" to sur- 
vive. To-day this capacity is not significant to survival 
in so high a degree; yet it still persists, subdued and 
overlaid in the course of experience by other tendencies, 
but still cropping out at frequent intervals. 

The tendency to follow movement is typical of all forms of 
passive attention. Whenever a moving object stimulates the 
periphery of the retina, — that is, when one sees movement out 
in the margin of the visual field with the " tail of the eye," — 
the tendency is always to turn in the direction of the moving 
object. It is a significant fact that a very slight movement can 
be perceived with the non-foveal portions of the retina when it 
cannot be perceived in direct vision — that is, by looking di- 
rectly, focally, at the moving object.^ It is easy to see how this 
capacity came to be selected in the process of evolution. The 
animal that could perceive its enemies creeping up from the 
side, while, at the same time, it appeared to be looking " straight 
ahead," would have an obvious advantage in the struggle for 
existence. The capacity is, however, practically without signifi- 
cance to-day. The astronomer, it is true, makes use of it in 
observing the entrance of a star into the field of telescopic 
vision, because he has found by experience that his observations 
are more accurate if he uses the outlying portions of the retina 
rather than the fovea. But with the average man, living under 

1 Cf. some interesting conclusions regarding the functional differences 
between focal and marginal vision in perception of motion, R. Dodge, in 
Psychological Review, 1904, N. S., vol. xi, pp. 1-14. 



THE DOCTRINE OF WORK 99 

the conditions of civilized society, the capacity is merely a 
" vestigial organ " of the mind, the useless remnant of a once- 
significant function, — except, perhaps, in the congested districts 
of the large cities, where pedestrianism is perilous. 

5. (b) Active Attention. But if one had always to 
follow the strongest external stimulus, — if the strongest 
stimulus always forced itself into the focus of conscious- 
ness, — one would be literally at the mercy of the envi- 
ronment. Sustained effort and all that it implies would 
be hopelessly out of the question. It is well, then, that in 
the development of social life, these distracting stimuli 
have come less and less to mean danger to the organism; 
hence the importance of attending to them has come 
gradually to be reduced. At the same time, social devel- 
opment has demanded that the individual govern his 
action with reference to remote rather than immediate 
ends. This means that present stimuli must be neglected 
in order that past experiences may be revived, and the 
relation between past experience and present or future 
situations adequately determined. 

With the diminution in value of the strong stimuli, 
therefore, there comes an enhancement in value of ideas 
and weaker stimuli,^ due to the exigencies of social life. 
But the older conditions always operate in greater or 
less degree. Just as the primitive impulses given through 
heredity cannot be entirely eliminated; and just as self- 

1 We still follow the strongest stimulus, but not the strongest external 
stimulus. Ideas and weak external stimuli become reenforced from within. 



lOO THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

preservation is still the first law of nature, even in the 
most highly organized societies; so the intense, the mov- 
ing and the contrasting stimuli from the outer world 
always tend to distract the mind from other processes. 
This tendency expresses itself in movement which must 
be inhibited or checked. Thus originates the ejjort that 
characterizes this later development of attention. It is 
always a battle as it were against nature — a constant 
struggle against fundamental forces. 

6. (c) Secondary Passive Attention. But if attention 
to the important things of social life, and inattention 
to those danger signals that meant so much to primitive 
life, always involved a struggle, the chances for advance- 
ment would be greatly curtailed. To be maximally 
efficient, mind must devote all its energy to the task in 
hand. When part of this energy is used up in resist- 
ing distracting stimuli, efficiency must be seriously inter- 
fered with. Hence it is fortunate that active attention 
may work over into the passive form — that ideas and 
weaker stimuh, at first attended to only through strenu- 
ous effort, come to be attended to without appreciable 
effort. This "secondary passive attention" is identical 
with the primary passive form as far as its immediate 
conscious effects are concerned, but it differs from the 
latter in its genesis. It is not the result of inherited 
or instinctive tendencies, but is rather to be looked upon 
as an acquired art, and furthermore as an art that can he 
acquired only through a period of active attention or effort. 



THE DOCTRINE OF WORK lOI 

7. Work and Play. In this distinction between pas- 
sive, active, and secondary passive attention are revealed 
the psychological principles that differentiate work 
from play. Both work and play are forms of activity, 
but work means activity directed toward a remote end, 
while in play the activity is an end in itself. The mind 
is constantly open to distractions — it always tends to 
follow the lines of least effort. And because it is so dif- 
ficult to resist distractions, the capacity for work is gen- 
erally conceded to be the greatest conquest that man 
has made in his rise from the brute. One of the first 
signs of a return to ancestral conditions — of a "rever- 
sion to type" — is the incapacity for sustained effort — for 
active attention. This tendency to revert to type is 
latent in all men. It finds expression in the love for 
change, the desire — sometimes overwhelming — to do 
"something else." 

There are those who work and work well with a variety of 
conflicting and intense stimuU pressing in upon them from all 
sides. -^ But this habituation to distracting influences comes 
only after a long and tedious process of discipline and training ; 
and it is seriously to be doubted whether the worker ever does 
his best under such conditions. Normally our minds are so 
sensitized that one who lives " in the midst of alarms " almost 
necessarily " burns the candle at both ends. " 

But apart from those who are adapted to this overplus of 
distraction, there are others who are veritable slaves of dis- 
tracting influences. To them quiet and seclusion are irksome 
and laborious, and the occupations that involve the absence of 

1 A slight distraction is probably essential to the best work. 



I02 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

frequent distractions become tedious and unbearable. The 
love of change which is sporadic and occasional in the average 
man is normal with them. Such individuals may be capable 
almost to the point of genius, but the incapacity for sustained ef- 
fort renders their exceptional gifts almost entirely without value. 
In short, the abnormal liking for change and variety, for "life" 
and noise, for the excitements of the theater, the race track, and 
the gaming-table, is unmistakable evidence, either of arrested 
development, or of decay and degeneration. It is something 
that grows upon itself ; idleness begets idleness. At best the 
supports that hold the race to the plane of civilization are frail 
and insecure enough. Release the tension ever so little, and 
the entire structure topples to the ground. How hard it is to 
be civilized and how easy it is to be primitive and brutal is 
only thoroughly appreciated by those who have slipped from 
the plane of humanity and are painfully struggling to climb 
back. 

It is in times of material prosperity that this danger is most 
strenuously to be combated ; for it is then that the innate desire 
for distraction most easily finds an outlet. The sophistries of 
ease and comfort then most readily eat their way into the popu- 
lar mind, catering to the love of change, the appetite for 
distraction, the enervating influences of dissipation and prodi- 
gality. This is, perhaps, why one finds in history that the 
seeds of national decay have frequently been sown in eras of 
great prosperity.* 

8. The capacity for work is the capacity for sustained 
effort. It means concentration, organization, and per- 

1 It may be urged that civilization owes not a little to the restless spirits 
of all ages. But the really great names of discovery and exploration and 
early settlement were borne by men of another type, — men to whom the 
pleasure and excitement of novel scenes and strange adventures were but 
incidental to the strenuous accomplishment of a set purpose. 



THE DOCTRINE OF WORK IO3 

manency of purpose. The intense desire for activity 
is not in itself sufficient. Children and savages possess 
this in great abundance. Not activity alone, but sus- 
tained and directed activity has been the keynote of 
human progress. Individually it expresses itself in unre- 
mitting effort toward the attainment of a far-off goal. 
Psychologically it means the subordination of inherited 
impulses to remote ends. In popular language, it is the 
expression of "will power" or "self-control." The man 
with a "strong will" is the man who can subordinate 
"lower" to "higher" motives; and lower and higher 
are genetically correlated with the immediate and the 
remote, with instinct and reason. 

"Active attention" and "will" may, therefore, for 
our purposes, be looked upon as synonymous terms. 
Volitional effort is a struggle against desire — gener- 
ally speaking, a struggle against instinct, against an 
impulse of a lower order. It has, however, a positive 
significance. The natural tendency may sometimes be 
to react in the primitive instinctive fashion, and this 
tendency must frequently be inhibited or controlled; 
but perhaps it is oftener the case that the desire for inac- 
tion must be overcome. That is, while the desire to 
do "something else" is always at least latent, the desire 
to do nothing at all is perhaps more frequently in 
evidence. Active attention is no less a battle against 
"laziness" than against "indolence," and this becomes 
increasingly true with advancing years. Children are 



104 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

seldom "lazy," but they are normally and constitu- 
tionally "indolent." In other words, they are not inac- 
tive, — activity indeed may be called the first law of 
child nature, — but they are averse to continued effort 
along a given line; they abhor monotony. The adult, 
on the other hand, is more frequently "lazy" or desirous 
of inaction. 

An "act of will" is a condition of attention in which 
the struggle against the lower tendencies or impulses 
is especially strenuous. In ordinary Hfe, the social 
or moral {i.e. artificial or civilized) conduct becomes 
ingrained as habit — becomes "second nature." This 
is what Ribot^ means when he says that the lower ten- 
dencies are always the stronger by "nature," while the 
higher tendencies are sometimes the stronger by "art." 
It is only another way of stating the difference, already 
noted, between primitive and acquired needs, between 
apperceptive systems of low and high degree. But 
always the tendency to follow the fines of least effort 
— either to react in the natural or inherited fashion 
or to remain inert — is at least latent. When this ten- 
dency becomes so strong as to demand a conscious 
struggle between apperceptive systems, we have the vofi- 
tional consciousness. 

9. From the above analysis, it is apparent that the 
terms "apperception" and "attention" simply indicate 
two aspects or phases of one and the same phenomenon. 

^ Th. Ribot : Diseases of the Will, Chicago, 1894, p. 50 (English trans.). 



THE DOCTRINE OF WORK IO5 

Attention is a structural term; it describes a certain 

state or pattern that consciousness may assume. Apper- 

I ception is a functional term ; it describes what mind 

I does when it is in the attentive state — and what it does 

lis to assimilate experience, to read meaning into sense 

I impressions, to bring perceptions and ideas into rela- 
ji 
tion with the needs of life. 

In passive attention, the processes upon which atten- 
tion is focalized are " apperceived " with reference to 
primitive needs; passive attention, in other words, 
means an apperception of low degree. In active atten- 
tion, there is a struggle to lose sight of the primitive 
needs and to apperceive with reference to the higher 
needs; but the primitive needs still solicit attention, 
hence the effort and struggle that are necessary in order 
to keep them down. In secondary passive attention, 
the struggle is no longer present. The primitive need 
has been conquered and the remote need has taken 
its place. 

10. Systems of apperception are represented struc- 
turally by the "marginal" constituents of the attentive 
state. While he is in the professional attitude, the phy- 
sician has a certain adjustment toward his patient which 
is represented by a definite tension of the muscles. This 
tension, in turn, is reported to consciousness through 
the sensations of strain. These are fairly constant as 
far as the professional attitude of the physician is 
concerned. But because they are constant in innu- 



I06 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

merable cases, they are gradually relegated to tin 
background, to the margin of consciousness. Othe; 
marginal features doubtless contribute to this appercep- 
tive system — the suggestive apparatus of the office, the 
odors of drugs, etc. But the important elements are the 
muscular and strain sensations.^ 

II. The doctrine of apperception, with its impHca- 
tions concerning attention and will, goes far toward 
clearing up the problem of interest, recently so vigor- 
ously discussed in educational circles.^ As stated above, 

^ While the intimate connection between apperception and attention has 
been recognized by several authorities, — among them, Herbart (^Psy- 
chologie ah Wissenschaft, pp. 200 ff.), Wundt (^Outlines of Psychology, 
tr. Judd, Leipzig, 1902, pp. 227 ff.), and Stout (^Analytic Psychology, 
London, 1896, vol. ii, pp. 118 f.), — it remained for Professor James to 
point out the significant function of the conscious margin in mental life. 
(See his Principles of Psychology^ New York, 1900, vol. ii, p. 49.) That 
the marginal elements which, according to James, " carry the meaning," 
are made up predominantly of strain sensations was first suggested to the 
author by Professor H. H. Bawden's " Study of Lapses " {^Psychological 
Review Monograph Supplement, 1900, vol. iii, no. 14), Very recently 
Mr. H. R. Marshall has elaborated a theory which identifies the concept 
of self with the field of inattention, or the margin of the conscious field. 
He divides the concept of self up into a number of subordinate " egos," 
and identifies each of these with a certain attitude which, if we under- 
stand his position aright, is structurally represented by the marginal ele- 
ments of consciousness. (See H. R. Marshall : "The Field of Inattention 
— the Self," in Journal of Philosophy, Psychology, and Scientific Method, 
1904, vol. i, pp. 393-400.) 

2 Cf., for example, W. James : Talks to Teachers on Psychology, New 
York, 1899, ch. x; M. V. O'Shea: Education as Adjustment, New York, 
1903, pp. 146 ff.; C. A. McMurry: Elements of General Method, New 
York, 1903, ch. iii; J. Dewey: Interest in Relation to Will, etc., second 
supplement, Herbart Year Book, 1895; ^' ^^ Garmo: Interest and Edu' 
cation. New York, 1903. 



THE DOCTRINE OF WORK 10/ 

it is an educational truism that apperception functions 
most readily along the lines of interest. This is only 
another way of saying that one assimilates experiences 
according to one's needs, for the needs of the individ- 
ual determine his interests. The two varieties of 
needs — primitive and acquired — suggest a similar 
classification of interests into two groups which can 
be conveniently represented by the same two terms. 
Primitive interest is the pleasurable affective state that 
accompanies primary passive attention. Acquired 
interest is the pleasurable affective state that accom- 
panies secondary passive attention. Active attention 
— inasmuch as it always means a struggle against desire, 
against that which would normally be pleasant — is 
obviously always unpleasant. 

So long as the pedagogical doctrine of interest meant 
the following of the Hnes of least resistance, its failure 
as an educational principle was absolutely certain. 
Always to obey the dictates of interest, in this sense 
of the term, would mean the instant arrest of all prog- 
ress. But if the interest means the desire for a satisfac- 
tion of acquired needs, the case is somewhat different. 
The child is no longer at the mercy of the strongest stimu- 
lus; sustained attention directed toward a remote end 
has become possible. But the point never to be for- 
gotten is this: acquired interests are developed only under 
the stress of active attention. Always there must be 
some inhibition of natural tendencies at the outset. The 



I08 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

k 

passion for change, the insidious and often overwhelm- 
ing desire "to do something else" must be strenuously 
repressed. 

It is at this point that the function of the teacher is all- 
important. As far as passive attention is concerned, the child 
needs no guidance ; when he has reached the stage of second- 
ary passive attention, he needs little guidance ; but the stage 
of active attention is the field in which the arts and devices of 
the teacher find their highest utility. To see to it that the 
child's development is not arrested on the plane of play is the 
serious business of education. To determine the point at which 
the mind must be guided, pulled, or prodded on to a higher 
plane of functioning is the duty of educational science. But 
the task of guiding, pulling, or prodding is assigned to the 
teacher. 

It is this task that makes the work of the teacher, especially 
in the elementary schools, so largely a battle against nature. 
It could not well be anything else. One may seriously doubt 
whether there is anything innate in the child that will lead him 
to the increased effort that this implies. Civilization in the 
race has cost a struggle which the exigencies of the environ- 
ment have necessitated. No race with whom the conditions 
of life were too easy has ever reached the higher planes of 
development. There is no reason for beUeving that the civili- 
zation of the individual can be accomplished by following the 
lines of least resistance. 

It is clear, then, that what we commonly term "work" 

is, biologically, the central feature of education. The 

play of childhood bears all the earmarks of passive 

•attention. Its end is immediate, it follows the strongest 

stimulus — the lines of least resistance. It is not sus- 



THE DOCTRINE OF WORK IO9 

tained, creative, or directed toward a remote end. All 
this must be changed; gradually, it is true, but none 
the less surely and certainly. The child must be civil- 
ized, and, as we have said again and again, the essence 
of civihzation is that remote and not immediate ends 
govern conduct. 

12. But if the doctrine of apperception emphasizes 
work or effort as the fundamental factor in education, 
it also indicates in terms equally unmistakable that the 
task of education may be materially simplified by lead- 
ing the child as rapidly as possible to acquire the higher 
needs. Until some need is distinctly present, the assimi- 
lation of experience is slow and halting. The indi- 
vidual would learn arithmetic willingly enough when, 
in adult years, he perceives the value of arithmetic to 
his survival. But unhappily this would probably be 
too late to do him much good. At any rate, the task 
would be infinitely more laborious and the individual's 
time and energy much more in demand for productive 
pursuits. One vital necessity of education, therefore, 
is to develop in the immature child needs that will demand 
the acquisition of experiences that will be beneficial in 
mature life. 

Until recently, educators gave little heed to this problem. 
The child "learned his lessons" under compulsion. 
His common motive was to avoid pain. This meant 
the assimilation of experiences with reference to needs 
of a low order. Not only were the apperceptions of 



no THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

low degree, but the stage of secondary passive attention 
was seldom reached. Always there was a tremendous 
waste of energy in the conflict between the desire to 
follow the lines of least resistance and the desire to avoid 
pain. 

One of the watchwords of modern civilization is " elim- 
ination of waste." Modern education is slowly recog- 
nizing that it is economy to develop acquired interests, 
— that the primitive interests may be replaced with 
higher needs to the great saving of time and energy. 
At the same time, it has been recognized that these higher 
interests must not be so high as to be entirely out of reach 
of the child. There must be an adjustment, a compro- 
mise. Education consequently does not neglect the 
instincts, the primitive interests. On the contrary, 
it seizes upon them and turns them to its own ends, 
seeking slowly to transform them into acquired interests 
representing ever higher and higher needs. This pro- 
cess may be illustrated by reference to a few of the 
current practices in elementary education. 

(a) When the child enters school, he is in the period of 
play, — the stage of passive attention. His apperceptions are 
determined by primitive needs. • His end is the immediate 
satisfaction of desire. Sustained attention is as yet an un- 
developed capacity. Consequently he has but few acquired 
needs, and these of a relatively low order. 

The first task of the teacher is to search out a dominant in- 
stinct. It is now beUeved that instincts have their periods of 
rise and dominance and decay just as other vital forces. Not 



THE DOCTRINE OF WORK III 

all instincts are in the ascendant at the same period of time ; ^ 
consequently the teacher must know something of this rhythmic 
movement. It is probable that the instinct of imitation will 
offer the most favorable avenue of approach. The child, at 
about the age of entering school, delights to repeat in his play 
adjustments various economic processes of the world about him. 

The teacher plans a playhouse which the children are to 
make and furnish for themselves. Here is a remote end that 
corresponds to an immediate interest. The consummation of 
this end will occupy perhaps several weeks. Left to himself, 
the child would tire of the process within a brief period. The 
house would be neglected for " something else " and soon for- 
gotten. But the teacher, while he permits frequent rests and 
changes, aims to keep the child returning to the task until it is 
accomplished. Gradually the instinct of imitation is replaced 
by a higher interest, — the interest of " construction " ; primary 
passive attention has grown into secondary passive attention. 
And yet, even with an objective process, such as building and 
furnishing a playhouse, there has been an indispensable link of 
active attention, a period of effort, of work, — perhaps even, 
brief though it may be, of drudgery. 

(^) In the upper grades, the work of instruction in language, 
and especially in grammar, has always been a tender spot in the 
curriculum, and very largely because it has been difficult to 
arouse the acquired interest, to make the subject matter vital 
to the child. Grammar has seemed to have no connection 
with the pupil's life. Consequently its mastery has been a life- 
less, formal process. 

The teacher of language to-day attempts first of all to 
develop the need. Every child must express himself; every 

1 The science of child study is gradually working out this problem by 
accurate methods. The work of Sully, Kline, Gulick, Croswell, Taylor, 
Burk, Lindley, Bryan, and others is important in this connection. An 
excellent summary will be found in I. King: Psychology of Child Devel- 
opment, Chicago, 1903, cb. xiii. 



112 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

« 

child takes a certain delight in expression. He likes nothing 
better than to talk about the things that interest him, and he 
likes to inform others about these things. The problem of the 
teacher of grammar is to show that, in one way or another, the 
study of grammar will promote the efficiency of expression. If 
he can do this in such a way that the child will see the con- 
nection, grammar will mean something to the pupil, will have a 
vital relation to his life. It is to this end that the teaching of 
the mother tongue attempts first of all to give the child a 
motive for expression, — something to talk about, a sympa- 
thetic ear to listen. Improvement in expression may then 
follow by the gradual correction of mistakes, the imitation of 
correct forms, and the application of principles gained from the 
study of grammar. 

(tr) In an analogous fashion, arithmetic is now begun in the 
grades. Constructive work reveals the need of counting, meas- 
uring, evaluating, etc. This need will make the first steps 
rational and not arbitrary. They will take on " meaning " to the 
pupil, and the first condition of apperception will thus be fulfilled. 

(d) In the preceding paragraphs, we have illustrated the 
development of needs of an intermediate order, — something 
higher than mere instincts, something less high than needs that 
will later be developed. Once the experiences take on a defi- 
nite reference to the life of the individual, the problem of 
apperception is solved. 

But the higher needs still remain to be developed. The 
child, for example, may perceive the value of grammar in im- 
proving his expression, and this may make possible his intro- 
ductory study of the subject. But at a later period, he may 
acquire an interest in grammar for its own sake. The study of 
the subject may as a study satisfy a need of his life. This will 
obviously be a need of a purely intellectual order, a further 
development of the primitive instinct of curiosity. 

(<?) One might go on to show how the teacher in the ele- 
mentary school may seize, at the proper moment, upon the 



THE DOCTRINE OF WORK II3 

" collecting " instinct, and turn its force into an educative 
channel. Again an entire chapter, even an entire book, might 
be written upon the instinct of emulation and the manner in 
which education may legitimately utilize it. The examples 
given, however, will serve to illustrate the principle, and this is 
all that can be attempted in the present connection. 

We thus see the significance of the statement, made 
earlier in the discussion, that the business of the school 
is to overlay the lower systems of apperception with those 
of higher degree. We must build upon the lower sys- 
tems; all our work must start with these. Occasion- 
ally, too, we must return to them. There are some 
experiences which the child must assimilate and yet 
a higher need for which may be hard to find. The 
last resource in such cases is to fall back upon the 
incentive of fear. This is especially true in cases where 
normal development has been arrested upon the plane 
of play. The new methods of teaching have not entirely 
replaced the older and harsher methods. There are 
frequently points at which pulhng and guiding must 
give place to prodding. It is safe to say that the point 
will never be reached where pain and drudgery can be 

entirely eliminated from the educative process. 
h 
,V"'^5^3- Part I discussed the functions of education and 

of the school in biological and sociological terms. Part 
II has been concerned with a continuation of the same 
topic from the psychological standpoint, and especially 
with a development of the laws underlying the acqui- 
sition of experience. It will be the task of Part III 



114 1HE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

to determine the different modes in which experience 
functions in modifying adjustment, with a view to ascer- 
taining in what manner these will affect the educative 
process. It will doubtless appear in the succeeding 
chapters that much of the matter of Part II cuts across 
the discussions of Part III. This is due to the fact 
that Part III deals with the functioning of experience 
while Part II has already brought out one function of 
experience — namely the interpretation of new expe- 
riences; hence it has already encroached upon the terri- 
tory properly belonging to the former section. In return 
for this, Part III should throw some light upon the 
problems with which we have just been deaUng. 



PART III. THE FUNCTIONING OF 
EXPERIENCE 

CHAPTER VII 
Experience functioning as Habit 

1. In the modification of adjustment, experience 
functions in two ways : (a) with a minimum of conscious- 
ness, or even Avithout consciousness — marginally or 
automatically; and (b) with a high degree or, perhaps, 
a maximum of consciousness — focally. Or, in other 
words, experience functions (a) as habit, and (b) as 
judgment. These terms, however, really represent the 
extremes of functioning; between them are all degrees 
and shades through which the two extremes merge into 
one another. 

2. Any motor adjustment that has dropped into the 
margin of consciousness, or sunk beneath the conscious 
threshold, may be looked upon as a type of habit.-^ The 
adjustments that are involved in bicycle riding furnish 
a famihar example. In the acquisition of this art, new 

^ It is true that " habit," as a psychological term, cannot, strictly speak- 
ing, be applied to an unconscious phenomenon. The term is here used 
rather in its neurological significance. Cf. Baldwin's Dictionary of Phu 
losophy and Psychology, art. " Habit." 

"5 



Il6 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

and complex adjustments of the muscles must be mas- 
tered through a number of slow and tedious repetitions. 
Improvement is so gradual that it is often difficult to 
note any change between one series of efforts and its 
successor; yet, in one way or another, the process is 
improved. Each new trial gives a new experience and 
helps — ever so Httle, it may be — to render the next 
trial more successful. Finally the nerve connections 
become so firmly fixed that the appropriate adjustment 
"goes off" with a minimum of attention. The slightest 
deviation from the position of perfect balance forms the 
stimulus that initiates the complex coordinations neces- 
sary to a reestabhshment of equiHbrium. These coordi- 
nations come gradually to be relegated to the margin 
of consciousness and finally drop below the threshold. 
What is now the "reflex arc" at first included the cor- 
tical centers. The stimulus and the adjustment were 
data of consciousness. But gradually consciousness 
leaves the process more and more to look after itself. 
When the necessity for conscious control no longer exists, 
— when the movement can be adequately "set off" 
by the stimulus in this mechanical fashion, — the process 
is said to be automatic. 

Automatic movement is therefore seen to be identical 
with reflex movement, except in this particular: it must 
be built up during a period of conscious control, while 
the latter may run its course from first to last without 
conscious intervention. In other words, reflex move- 



EXPERIENCE FUNCTIONING AS HABIT II 7 

merit is due to an inherited connection of elements in 
the nerve structure, while automatic movement is due 
to an acquired connection in the nerve structure, — a 
connection made, moreover, through the agency of con- 
sciousness. 

3. The process of bicycle riding, once mastered,- may 
go on either with a minimum of conscious intervention 
or entirely without conscious control. It represents, 
therefore, a type of the functioning of experience that 
may be termed unconscious or subconscious. There 
are, on the other hand, certain habits in which the con- 
scious element is more pronounced. These are mar- 
ginal habits, and they differ from automatisms in that 
the stimulus comes into the field of consciousness, but 
into the margin rather than the focus. As Stout ^ ex- 
presses it, such stimuH are "assimilated" rather than 
"apperceived." 

"Sensori-motor" actions^ form good examples of this 
type of habit. They include the multitude of Httle 
things that one does in the course of daily Hfe — the 
habitual adjustments involved in dressing, eating, etc. 
The sight of the coat "sets ofif" the adjustments requi- 
site to putting it on. The pressure upon the arms and 
shoulders sets off, in turn, the adjustments necessary 
to buttoning it up, and so on. At the table, the sight 
of the knife and fork suggests the movements required 

1 G. F. Stout : Analytic Psychology, vol. ii, p. 88. 

• Cf. E. B, Titchener : Primer of Psychology, pp. 170, 256. 



Il8 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

to take them up ; the sight of the food suggests the move- 
ments that will carry it to the mouth, etc. 

These may, it is true, degenerate into pure motor au- 
tomatisms, but it is safe to say that they generally involve a 
higher degree of conscious control ; certainly due in part to 
the fact that, while they are constant elements in daily life, 
they are practiced only at intervals during the day, — once or 
twice or three times as the case may be. If one ate and 
dressed as continually as one walks, the movements would 
doubtless become as thoroughly unconscious as are those of 
walking. 

One who is familiar with the crowded streets of a city must 
have noted and marveled at the skill with which the teamsters 
and cabmen thread their way through the congested traffic, — 
with what apparent ease they guide their horses past trucks 
and street cars that seem hopelessly to obstruct the way, — 
how nicely they avoid disasters that appear to be inevitable. 
Yet many of these men seem to give little heed to what they 
are doing. Some of them, it is true, are worried and anxious, 
but these are in the minority. The majority sit complacently 
behind their horses, seemingly as careless of their surroundings 
as if they were upon a lonely country road. Nor is this apparent 
carelessness without foundation in reality. So thoroughly 
familiar have they become with these conditions that eye and 
hand work harmoniously together with little effort of mind. To 
be sure they are alert and wide-awake, but their eyes and 
hands and the lower centers of the brain do the work. The 
foci of their minds may be occupied with far different situations. 

4. Another type of marginal habit is represented by 
"ideo-motor" actions.^ Ideo-motor action is similar 
to the sensori-motor variety, except that an idea rather 

* Cf. Titchener, op. cit., pp. 1 70, 256. 



EXPERIENCE FUNCTIONING AS HABIT 1 19 

than an external stimulus sets off the accustomed ad- 
justments. Ideo-motor habits may be illustrated by the 
processes of speaking and writing. Here the adjust- 
ments that are requisite to the formation of the spoken 
or written word follow upon the idea of the word. 

The unstudied and habitual use of " good form " in speak- 
ing and writing is a type of ideo-motor habit that is especially 
important from the standpoint of education. If one is to 
speak or write effectively, the form must be largely outside the 
focus of consciousness. Proper and effective modes of com- 
bining words must be so firmly fixed by practice that attention 
can be given unreservedly to the " thought " or " content," with 
full confidence that the form will, as it were, take care of itself. 

In this category belong, also, the little conventionaHties of 
" etiquette," — those habitual adjustments that mark the per- 
son of " good breeding." These must be so fixed by constant 
(and, in the beginning, conscious) repetition that they will 
"go off" without mental effort, — that they will become 
" second nature." 

An important general characteristic of habit is well 
illustrated by the examples cited. Once the process of 
bicycle riding has become thoroughly automatized, the 
bringing of the adjustments back into the focus of con- 
sciousness will seriously interfere with its efficiency. 
Similarly, where the movements of walking become "self- 
conscious," they are thereby rendered awkward and 
ungainly. The same rule holds with marginal habits. 
When one has mastered the use of correct forms of 
speech, attention to these forms will very likely render 
the expression stilted and formal. 



I20 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

5. Moral Habits. There are processes of a more com- 
plex nature that also demand treatment under the head 
of habit, for, notwithstanding their complexity, they still 
retain the essential structure of habit — a definite and 
uniform response to a definite stimulus or situation, 
involving less and less conscious effort as practice con- 
tinues. 

(o) Habits of Cleanliness. The old proverb, "Clean- 
liness is next to Godliness," expresses a world of truth 
from the standpoint of education. Filth is the Hne of 
least resistance; the "natural man" is an unclean man. 
Cleanliness is a product of civilization; it represents a 
certain measure of triumph over the brute. Once let 
the tension relax and here, as elsewhere, man tends to 
revert to type. This is shown in the decay of old age, 
in progressive dementia, and in that unnamed decay 
that results from the unbridled pursuit of sensual pleas- 
ures. Always there must be more or less effort involved 
in holding one's self to the plane represented by civilized 
society. The habit of cleanliness means the reduction 
of this effort to a minimum through a term of unceasing 
vigilance. 

{b) Habits of Industry. Like the habits of cleanli- 
ness, these are, in their initial stages, a battle against 
nature. The line of least resistance is not the hne of 
sustained effort. The natural man is the "indolent" man, 
— not necessarily the inactive man, but the man who is 
averse to sustained effort. Like the child, he is the 



EXPERIENCE FUNCTIONING AS HABIT 121 

slave of every stimulus to change. The habits of indus- 
try represent the uniform resistance to this temptation. 

(c) Habits of Honor. As with all terms of a profound 
nature, it is difficult, if not impossible, adequately to 
define "honor." Essentially it is an ideal, a conscious 
attitude. Habits of honor are built up through a con- 
tinued subordination of certain natural tendencies to 
high ideals of manhood and womanhood. 

The moral habits undoubtedly approach the judg- 
ment more closely than the automatisms and marginal 
habits previously discussed, and their treatment must 
be reserved for a later section, where they can be studied 
in the light of the principles underlying judgment. 

6. The Function 0} Habit. The relation of habit to 
efficiency is direct. It is simple, simon-pure economy 
to reduce the constant and unvarying functions of life 
to the plane of automatism, — to take them out of the 
focus of consciousness and thus leave the higher centers 
free to deal with the changing, varying problems of exist- 
ence. A man could accompUsh very Httle if he had 
constantly to devote his energy and attention to the little 
details of everyday Hfe. If he had consciously to adjust 
his muscles at every step of his walk to his office, he 
would have little strength left for the business of the 
day; and if men had always consciously to resist the 
temptations to unsocial and immoral action, the mere 
operation of physical forces would make corruption the 
rule and not the exception in every department of life. 



122 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

If habit, then, is nine tenths of hfe, — as it certainly 
is, — the formation of habits should bear a somewhat 
corresponding ratio to the total task of education. The 
school deals with the individual during a plastic period, 
and it is during this period that habits of all kinds must 
be formed if they are to be formed most economically 
and effectively. George Eliot has forcibly expressed this 
truth in "Daniel Deronda." Gwendolen, a butter- 
fly of society, has been thrown upon her own resources 
after a childhood and youth in which discipHne and train- 
ing found no place. She believes that she has musical 
talent, and she asks Klesmer, a successful musician, to 
help her turn this talent to financial account. Klesmer's 
reply sums up the pedagogy of habit in a nutshell : — 

" Any great achievement in acting or in music grows with the 
growth. Whenever an artist has been able to say, ' I came, I 
saw, I conquered,' it has been at the end of patient practice. 
Genius at first is little more than a great capacity for receiving 
discipline. Singing and acting, like the fine dexterity of the 
juggler with his cup and balls, require a shaping of the organs 
toward a finer and finer certainty of effect. Your muscles, 
your whole frame must go like a watch, — true, true, true to a 
hair. This is the work of the springtime of life before the 
habits have been formed." 

Drill, repetition, and discipline are the important 
words in the pedagogy of habit; but the principle that 
is perhaps most frequently neglected is this: processes 
that are to he made habitual or automatic must first be 
focalized. Not only this, but a process is automatized the 



EXPERIENCE FUNCTIONING AS HABIT 123 

more effectively the more strenuously it is focalized in 
its initial stages. The law of habit building might, 
then, be summed up in the following formula: Focali- 
zation plus drill in attention. 

The formation of a habit is somewhat analogous to 
the concentration of a solution to the point of crystal- 
Hzation. One may add to such a solution increment 
after increment, but unless one final increment is added, 
the solution will remain in the liquid state. Similarly, 
in forming a habit, one may go through with the slow 
and gradual process of repetition upon repetition, drill 
upon drill, but unless one final series of drills and repeti- 
tions is added, the plane of automatization is not reached. 

The simplicity of the pedagogy of habit as contrasted with 
the involved character of the pedagogy of judgment, perhaps 
accounts for the neglect of this subject by educational writers. 
At any rate it is true that few pedagogical treatises give to 
habit even the smallest fraction of the treatment that its funda- 
mental significance would seem to demand. 

This neglect is reflected in certain fallacious practices that 
have caused an immense waste in the work of the schools. The 
wide application of the doctrine of " incidental learning " is a 
case in point. This doctrine assumed that " content " and 
"form" could be acquired simultaneously; or, to put it in 
another way, that form could be acquired incidentally while 
attention is fixed upon " thought "or "content." This assump- 
tion is a direct violation of the law of habit ; the child can 
never become proficient in form without many distinct acts of 
attention dealing with form alone. It may be that the child 
will learn to spell without spelling lessons as such ; that he 
will " absorb " the form of written and printed words while he 



124 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

is reading interesting stories or writing essays and compositions. 
But if this is ever true, it is because attention has been divided, 
now being concentrated upon the form, now upon the content, 
and flitting from one to the other as the exigencies of the task 
have demanded. 

Similarly, the principles of syntax and rhetorical composition 
may be gained through the reading of literary masterpieces and 
the hearing of correct forms in conversation ; but whenever this 
miracle occurs, it is because attention has been drawn away 
from the content — from the thought or meaning of the writer 
or speaker — and concentrated upon the form. Macaulay 
says, " It is not by overturning great libraries, but by repeatedly 
perusing and intently contemplating a few great masterpieces 
that the mind is best disciplined." It is in the repeated perusal 
and intent contemplation that content is neglected and form 
emphasized. The essence of a good literary style lies in the 
very fact that the form is not superficial, not obvious. Like a 
window, it fulfills its function most effectively when it is least 
in evidence. If one is to gather the principles of style, then, 
from the study of masters, one must look deeply to find them. 
Mere reading for the sake of the " story," — for the sake of the 
content, — will not furnish them. 

The doctrine of incidental learning may bring results, but it 
is obviously at a certain waste of time and energy. Divided 
attention means a breaking up of the continuity of conscious- 
ness. At each change there is demanded an overcoming of 
inertia, and this operates in mental work precisely as it operates 
in physical work. 

7. The Breaking Up of Habits. In the work of the 
school, habit building frequently takes the form of re- 
placing bad or inefficient habits with those of the 
opposite character. The "rooting out" of a habit 
follows the same law as the formation of a habit except 



EXPERIENCE FUNCTIONING AS HABIT 12$ 

that the process is reversed. In forming a habit, the rule 
is focalization, followed by drill in attention until automa- 
tism results. A full-fledged habit operates apart from 
attention. If such a habit is to be disintegrated, it is 
necessary to bring the mechanized process back into the 
focus of consciousness and there to replace it with another 
process. 

Examples of this procedure are found particularly in the 
language training of the elementary school. The child uses 
a number of incorrect and inefficient forms, — partly because 
he has acquired them through imitation, partly also because 
language is a synthetic process, and the pupil puts words to- 
gether in combinations that he has never heard before, or, at 
least, never noted. Necessarily some of these forms will be 
crude, incorrect, and inefficient, but their continued repetition 
will tend to fix them as habits. 

A common trick of speech among children in the early 
grades is the useless and awkward repetition of the pronoun 
after a noun : " George Washington, he crossed the Dela- 
ware;" "The Irish, they eat potatoes." Other tricks of 
speech that must be broken up are the use of such words as 
well, why, then, in useless connections. The wise teacher does 
not attempt to correct all such mistakes at once. Rather he 
selects a typical mistake, common to most of his pupils. This 
mistake he points out to them, showing in what its insufficien- 
cies consist, and how the correct form will improve the ex- 
pression, — will better subserve the purpose of communication. 
Then, by constant drill on this one mistake, — correcting it as 
quietly as possible when it creeps into the recitation, asking 
the pupils frequently what it is that they are trying to 
avoid, — he gradually replaces the erroneous with the correct 
form. 



126 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

8. The treatment of the last section may seem some- 
what unorthodox to one who is familiar with contem- 
porary educational theory. The prominence that has 
attached to the factor of imitation through the writings 
of Tarde and Baldwin has given rise in some circles to 
a notion that imitation is the chief process in education. 
This notion has found its most effective expression in 
the reaction against the ''false syntax" that had so promi- 
nent a place in the older grammars. There can be no 
doubt that this feature of grammatical instruction was 
carried to an unnecessary extreme; perhaps a few pupils 
used incorrect forms because they saw them upon the 
page of the text-book — although that this evil ever 
assumed the tremendous influence lately ascribed to it 
is seriously to be doubted. At any rate, it is safe to say 
that the child uses false syntax in his own spontaneous 
expression in a degree suflScient for all purposes of illus- 
tration. 

But when the opponents of false syntax state that the 
child should never be made conscious of an incorrect 
form, they are repudiating one of the basal principles 
of growth and development. It is hardly too much to 
say that every man who succeeds climbs to success upon 
the carcasses of his dead mistakes. As one writer^ has 
expressed it: "The whole process of human locomotion, 
not only physical but mental, is literally a series of unin- 

\ 1 W. Hutchinson : The Gospel according to Darwin, Chicago, 1898, 
p. 12. 



EXPERIENCE FUNCTIONING AS HABIT 12/ 

ternipted falls. Our only chance of advancing is to fall 
in the right direction and keep at it. Our only struggle 
should be, not to avoid falling, but to fall forward." 
In spite of asseverations to the contrary, it is safe to 
say that a principle that the history of science and the 
history of civilization reveal upon every page is far too 
fundamental to be repudiated by education. 



CHAPTER VIII 
Experience functioning as Judgment 

I. The essence of an automatic adjustment is that it 
is automatic — that it takes place in the same definite 
manner upon every occasion. Once an adjustment 
functions freely as habit, consciousness is reheved of 
attention to the details which habit looks after efficiently. 
Hence it "pays" for the individual to undergo a strenu- 
ous training in order to mechanize a large number of 
reactions. But experiences that are to function con- 
sciously must be treated in a different manner. They 
are not to be used in the same uniform fashion on every 
occasion. Certain experiences, indeed, that education 
goes to great pains to impress may function but once 
in modifying adjustment. Others may never function at 
all. Still others may function frequently in hundreds 
of different situations. 

The problem here is obviously less simple than that 
which was presented in connection with habit. In the 
latter case, we had reference to situations that should be 
constant; now we must plan with reference to situations 
that are to be variable. In habit, the task is to make 

128 



EXPERIENCE FUNCTIONING AS JUDGMENT 1 29 

adjustments rigid, unchangeable; in judgment, it is 
essential to insure the very reverse of this — to insure 
adaptability to different situations.-^ 

2. The last chapter instanced a teamster in a crowded 
city street as illustrative of a man whose experiences 
functioned mainly as habit. It was noted that his ad- 
justments were few and comparatively unvarying. Con- 
sequently, once his art had been mastered, it could be 
practiced with little effort of attention. Now and again, 
perhaps, a situation might present itself that would 
require delicate judgment, but such situations would not 
enter largely into his duties. On the other hand, there 
are some men who must solve new problems at every 
turn, — who must constantly apply experience in ways 
new and unforeseen. The situations that they face are 
seldom twice the same. Between these two extremes 
there are thousands of occupations demanding judgment 
in varying degrees. 

Consider, for example, the captain of a steamship. Nine 
tenths of his time is perhaps devoted to routine duties, — to 
duties that are largely relegated to the field of habit. His only 
care in such cases is to see that the routine is faithfully kept up. 

1 " We have argued that ' reason ' is our name for the process which in 
an objective view appears as organic variation; . . . that 'reasoning' is 
our name for the conscious side of those activities of our nature which 
enable the organism to depart from typical reactions; . . . that reason is 
therefore the psychic coincident of that capacity within us which is all- 
important in the adaptation of life to an environment which, in its very 
nature, must be ever- variable." — H. R. Marshall: Insiinci and Reason, 
New York, 1898, p. 114. 

K 



130 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

As long as conditions remain normal, the ship will almost " run 
itself." But in the exceptional instance, — when the ship is 
entering a strange harbor, when an accident has disabled the 
machinery, when a storm renders navigation dangerous, — 
every increment of the captain's energy must go to the solution 
of the problem in hand. He must diligently search his past 
experience for similar situations which may help him out ; he 
must recall and apply all the principles that bear upon the 
case ; in short, from the experiences that he has gained in his 
own work, from the experiences of others in similar situations, 
from the general principles relating to his calling that have 
been derived from race experience, he must devise, construct, 
plan a course of action that will meet his needs. His ability to 
do this successfully will obviously depend largely upon the mass 
of experience at his command, upon his ability to recall 
those features that are salient to the present problem, and 
upon his ability to perceive the relation between what he 
" knows'' and what he must do. 

3. A judgment is an act which results from the facing 
of a given situation, and in which past experience is con- 
sciously brought to bear upon the solution of this situation. 
As Miss Thompson^ says: "It is always an act stimu- 
lated by some set of conditions which needs readjusting. 
Its outcome is a readjustment whose value is and can 
be tested only by its adequacy." 

4. There are two important types of judgment, the 
distinctions between which must be carefully consid- 
ered in educational theory: (a) the practical judgment 
involving the conscious application of concrete experi- 

1 Helen Bradford Thompson: "Bosanquet's Theory of Judgment," in 
Dewey's Studies in Logical Theory, Chicago, 1903, pp. 107 ff. 



EXPERIENCE FUNCTIONING AS JUDGMENT I3I 

ence; and (b) the conceptual judgment^ involving the 
conscious application of condensed experience. 

{a) The Practical Judgment. This term has been 
used by Hobhouse ^ to denote the application of expe- 
rience revived in its concrete form; that is, recalled in 
the same materials of sensation in which it originally 
occurred. The organism faces a situation; some fea- 
ture of the situation recalls, in at least a portion of its 
sensory details, a similar situation previously faced. This 
brings with it the idea of the way in which the former 
situation was reacted to. Reaction is then made to the 
present situation on the basis of the former reaction. 

Suppose, for example, that some one is severely burned and 
that, no physician being within call, a servant of a physician, 
who has helped his employer upon several occasions, is sum- 
moned. As he views the situation, he recalls a peculiarly vivid 
experience in which he assisted in dressing a similar burn. The 
procedure of the preceding case is readily repeated in this 
instance and the burn is successfully dressed. This is the re- 
call of experience in a concrete, particular form. The idea 
of a single past situation is revived and applied to a similar 
present situation. 

5. Analysis, Synthesis, Comparison, and Abstraction 
in the Practical Judgment. But this does not tell the 
whole story. No two situations are exactly alike; they 
may approach identity, but, in the nature of things, it 
may be assumed that perfect identity is never reached. 
The capacity, then, to make such a correlation of expe- 

^ L. T. Hobhouse : Mind in Evolution, London, 1901, ch. vi. 



132 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

riences as that just cited depends upon the capacity to 
analyze an experience into its component parts, and to 
recognize some relation between similar parts of different 
experiences. This relation once recognized, a synthesis 
of parts of experiences is made which results in the appli- 
cation of the past situation to the present situation. 
Thus the practical judgment involves what the older 
logicians called analysis and synthesis as truly as does 
the logical judgment. 

Analysis and synthesis, however, depend upon atten- 
tion: in analysis, we break up experiences into their 
component parts, attending to one part at a time and 
neglecting the others; in synthesis, we recognize a com- 
ponent that is common to two or more experiences, raise 
this element into the focus of attention, and combine the 
two or more experiences upon the basis of this common ele- 
ment. This process obviously involves what the logicians 
term comparison and abstraction. The practical judgment 
rests upon the capacity to pick out the common element 
in different experiences, and this "perception of a rela- 
tion" is a vital characteristic in all forms of judgment. 

6. Advantages and Limitations of the Practical Judg- 
ment. An organism that can recall its past experiences 
and utihze them in facing new situations is obviously 
at an advantage over an organism that can face situa- 
tions only upon the basis of instinct or habit, although 
there are numerous situations to which the inherited 
and habitual adjustments are entirely adequate. Situa- 



EXPERIENCE FUNCTIONING AS JUDGMENT 1 33 

tions that are common to everyday life, for example, 
are best met by an habitual adjustment, and situations 
that throughout the history of the race have always been 
critical to life are best met by hereditary or instinctive 
adjustments. It is well that one can dodge a missile 
instinctively — without stopping to "think" about it — 
without reducing action to the form of judgment. But 
instinctive and habitual adjustments, efl&cient as they are, 
require numberless experiences, either racial^ or individ- 
ual, in order that they may become fixed and certain. 
This process implies a tremendous waste — a constant 
ehmination of the many forms that are unfit and the 
slow, long-continued selection of the few forms that are 
fit. In the practical judgment, however, a single expe- 
rience may serve to insure a more adequate adjustment. 
Thus while the practical judgment may not work as 
rapidly or as certainly in a given instance as either in- 
stinct or habit, it broadens the scope of an organism's 
activity and requires infinitely less time to be brought 
to a stage of eSiciency. 

The limitations of the practical judgment are (i) the 
fact that it involves the recall of a particular, concrete 
experience; the new situation must resemble the past 
experience in many features, and these features must be 
upon the surface ; there is no reference to underlying 
principles that might form a common link between 

1 This statement does not necessarily assume the inheritance of acquired 
characteristics. 



134 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

experiences having, superficially, nothing in common. ' 
(2) Furthermore, the past experience must have been very 
recently, very vividly, or very frequently impressed in 
order to be revived in a concrete form. Thus only com- 
paratively few experiences will serve as possible bases 
for practical judgments, because, in the nature of things, 
comparatively few experiences will possess either one or 
another of these advantages. 

If man were limited to practical judgments, he would have 
little advantage over some of the higher animals, for experi- 
ments in animal psychology seem to indicate that some of the 
more "intelligent" of the vertebrates — particularly the dog, 
the horse, the elephant, and the monkey — can apply experi- 
ence in this way ; that is, they can analyze past and present 
experiences, pick out common qualities, and mediate means 
to ends upon this basis.^ Such an animal, for instance, when 
placed in a cage the door of which is fastened by a peculiar 
clasp, will watch his master unfasten the clasp and then do it 
himself. I'his may be looked upon as a crude form of practi- 
cal judgment, for it is tolerably clear that the animal perceives 
a relation between the experience of watching the master open 
the cage and the opening of it by his own efforts. It has, in 
other words, abstracted a common quality from different expe- 
riences, and applied this common element to the solution of a 
given problem. 

The monkey, however, will do more than this. If the clasp 

^ The conclusions regarding practical judgment in animals are stated 
on the authority of Hohhouse, op. cit., chs. vi-viii. See also his criticism 
of the views of Thorndike and others, who deny this capacity in even the 
higher vertebrates. The conclusions regarding the operation of practical 
judgment in children are based upon the author's own observations and 
experiments. 



EXPERIENCE FUNCTIONING AS JUDGMENT 1 35 

be replaced by one slightly different, it will perceive the rela- 
tion between the first experience and the new situation, or, to 
speak objectively, between the first clasp and the second, and 
modify its adjustments accordingly. If the relation is not obvi- 
ous, however, — if the difference between the two experiences 
is too great, — the monkey will be nonplussed. In other words, 
its judgments are of an entirely practical order. They depend 
upon superficial resemblances and do not penetrate to underly- 
ing principles. 

The child, in the earlier stages of his development, is limited 
to practical judgments. If he is confined in a yard by a rope 
slipped over the gate-post and one of the pickets of the gate, 
he may watch some one open the gate by lifting the rope, and 
then, if he can reach or climb to the top of the gate, he may 
proceed to do the same thing himself. If the rope is replaced 
by a hoop, the new situation will offer no insurmountable diffi- 
culties. The relation between rope and hoop will be readily 
grasped. If the hoop is fastened by a peg, he may see the 
relation between the hoop and the peg, and puU the latter out. 
But if the hoop is replaced by a knob that turns a latch, he 
may perceive the relation between the latch and the opening 
of the gate, but the relation between the latch and the knob 
will, for some time, be too much for him. This relation is not 
superficial, and practical judgment is inadequate. If some one 
turns the knob and opens the gate, he can easily repeat the 
operation, but if knob and latch be replaced by lock and key, 
he is again nonplussed. 

With one of mature years, however, a situation of this sort, 
even if it were as thoroughly novel as it is to the child,' would 
offer few difficulties. His experiences would be much more 
thoroughly organized, and superficial resemblances between the 

* This is, of course, only a supposition. In reality, the situation could 
never be as novel to the adult as to the child. See O'Shea, op. cit., p. 225; 
also E. B. Titchener: An Outline of Psychology, New York, 1899, p. 271. 



136 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

present and the past situations would be less essential. We 
have now to inquire how it comes about that man can advance 
beyond the practical judgment to the operation of which the 
child and the young animal are rigorously limited. 

7. (b) The Conceptual Judgment Reverting to the 
illustration of the physician's servant and the burn, it 
is clear that the servant was able to treat the burn suc- 
cessfully because he recalled an experience in which he 
had helped his master treat a similar burn. The com- 
mon features of the two experiences enabled him to apply 
the first to the second, treating the wound as successfully, 
perhaps, as his master could have done. But suppose 
the resemblance to be only superficial — suppose that the 
burn were of such a kind that the application of 
the first form of treatment to it would be inadequate. 
Here the repetition of the same procedure might produce 
the most untoward results. It is not likely, however, 
that the physician himself would be deceived by super- 
ficial resemblances. He would see more deeply, although 
he would still apply experience to the solution of the 
problem. Nor would the only difference be that he had 
more experiences at his command than the servant had. 
If that were true, the art of surgery could be acquired 
by an apt servant if he only remained with his 
master long enough. The physician, however, is trained 
in the principles of his calling, and in so far as he has 
his own experiences and those of his fellow- craftsmen 
reduced to principles and thoroughly organized, just so 



EXPERIENCE FUNCTIONING AS JUDGMENT 1 37 

far will he be likely to hit upon that experience that will 
help him the most in any particular case. In other 
words, the practical judgment of the servant will be 
replaced by a much more elaborate judgment, depending 
upon a more thorough elaboration and correlation not 
only of the physician's individual experiences, but also 
of that vast mass of race experience from which the 
underlying principles of surgery are drawn. 

The operation of the conceptual judgment, then, in- 
volves two new factors, (a) It is obvious that expe- 
riences that function effectively in such judgments must 
be condensed. All the detailed experiences that bear 
upon a given situation cannot be recalled, each in its 
concrete particularity, as was the experience that the 
servant applied. If such a procedure were necessary, 
the patient would die — if not from his wound, at least 
from old age — before the physician came to a decision. 
The necessity, then, for some form of abridgment or 
condensation is apparent, (b) A vast number of expe- 
riences bearing upon a particular case implies a great 
diversity in the details of the separate experiences. Per- 
haps the point that will help the physician the most will 
be enmeshed in a complex of experiences that have very 
Uttle superficial or qualitative resemblance to the situa- 
tion in question — experiences gained in the laboratory, 
it may be, where their relation to the treatment of burns 
was never even hinted at. In' brief, as experiences be- 
come massed and condensed, the relations between them 



138 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

become less and less superficial and more and more 
penetrating and fundamental. The point of contact is 
no longer a surface-resemblance, but a deep, abiding, 
underlying principle, essence, around which the various 
experiences, so diverse in themselves, are clustered. 

This condensation of experiences is made possible 
through the formation of concepts which, in a sense, take 
the place of, stand for, particular experiences. It is 
because this form of judgment depends upon the con- 
densing virtues of the concept that it is termed the "con- 
ceptual judgment." This process of condensation and 
the advantage which it gives in adjustment to the envi- 
ronment must now be considered in some detail. 



CHAPTER IX 

The Condensation of Experiences and the For- 
mation OF Concepts 

I. The efficiency of the conceptual judgment depends 
upon the condensation of experience, but this conden- 
sation is not a mere compressing; it is rather a picking 
out of the saHent, the prominent, the significant features, 
and the casting aside of those features that are merely 
accessory. It is safe to say that an experience is never 
revived in its entirety. The term "concrete" is, there- 
fore, strictly relative. It simply means that the original 
experience has been condensed in a minimal degree. An 
accurate analysis of a vast number of experiences would 
doubtless reveal all degrees of condensation and abridg- 
ment from what we have termed the concrete idea to 
the most abstract concept. The effective use of experi- 
ence, however, depends in no small degree upon the 
extent to which it has been condensed. Concrete ideas 
are, at best, clumsy contrivances. They are readily 
recalled only under exceptional conditions; their salient 
features are necessarily superficial; and their very mas- 
siveness, so to speak, interferes with their effective use. 

139 



140 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

2. The practical judgment, as we have seen, implies 
some capacity for analysis and synthesis, and only those 
animals that can hold parts of experiences in a definite 
relation to one another are capable of making such judg- 
ments. A still higher stage of mental development is 
essential to the formation of a concept, because the analy- 
ses must be much more minute and the syntheses much 
more comprehensive. There must be capacity to look 
at experiences apart from immediate ends, and this, 
it is clear, may involve a high grade of active attention. 
Finally, there must be some convenient symbol that will 
form the link between various experiences, represent- 
ing the relation which analysis has revealed and upon 
which synthesis must work. Until an animal has devel- 
oped a symbolism that will permit deUcate variations 
to represent equally deUcate shades or nuances of 
experience, the conceptual judgment is out of the ques- 
tion. It is not surprising, then, that man should be 
the sole possessor of this prerogative. 

The word represents the concept which, in turn, stands 
for a relation binding together, representing, a greater 
or smaller number of concrete experiences. But while 
words normally represent masses of experience once 
actualized in the concrete, they can be combined in vari- 
ous ways, thus making possible constructive results 
to which no previous experience corresponds. Man 
is consequently able, not only to face present situations 
in the light of past experience, but also to look into the 



THE CONDENSATION OF EXPERIENCES I4I 

future and govern action with reference to remote ends. 
Thus active attention and the concept-forming capac- 
ity reciprocally benefit one another. 

Hobhouse's treatment^ of this stage of mental growth is 
especially clarifying. He defines a concept in the following 
words : " When an element common to many experiences is 
not merely recognized when it appears, but (i) is thought of 
without being perceived, and (2) is capable of being combined 
in thought with other elements, it becomes a concept of general 
meaning and application. To be a general concept, the ele- 
ment must be something for consciousness apart from its per- 
ceptual setting, and it must be applicable to a different setting." 

3. Concepts have been variously classified by various 
authorities. While it is not pertinent to our purpose 
to review these classes at this time, it will be helpful 
to consider briefly two of them for the sake of the light 
that they throw upon the nature of the concept in general. 

(a) Collective Concepts. These are represented in language 
most typically by the common nouns. Having the capacity 
for analysis, we are enabled to "know" objects as definite 
parts of experience. Certain objects have certain features in 
common. They may differ in many respects, but there is 
something that combines them into a class. This constant 
common quality we perceive as a relation and represent by 
a name. Thereafter we are enabled to deal with the name, — 
to use the name, — as representing the class, as standing for a 
mass of similar experiences. 

It is clear that the greater the number of objects included 
under the concept, the fewer will be the common quahties that 
the concept connotes, and the more "abstract" will be the 

^ Hobhouse, op. cit., p. 292. 



142 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

relation that is designated. The spreading-out of the concept 
over a number of individual objects is technically known as 
its extension ; the common qualities that it represents form its 
intension. Therefore the extension and intension of a collec- 
tive concept always bear an inverse relation to one another, — 
the greater the extension, the less the intension, and vice versa. 
The concept horse, for example, possesses more intension and 
less extension than the concept vertebrate, and so on. This 
distinction is somewhat important from an educational stand- 
point. 

(J>) Individual Concepts. These are typically represented 
by particular names or proper nouns.^ That such words stand 
for condensed experiences is, perhaps, not obvious at first 
glance. Formal logic has accustomed us to think of the con- 
cept as something abstracted from several objects, rather than 
from several experiences. But it is plainly apparent that our 
knowledge of an object varies with our experiences with that 
object. 

For example, my friend, Mr. Smith, is an individual; but 
my knowledge of him is a product of several experiences that 
I have had with him. My concept of Mr. Smith, represented 
by his name, is really a condensation of these experiences. I 
have seen him at different times, talked with him upon different 
subjects, gained thereby an insight into different phases and 
aspects of his " nature." My concept has gradually changed 
during all this time. Particulars and details have been cut 
out, and only permanent features remain. These constitute a 
thread of continuity or identity running through the details of 
various experiences, and to this thread I attach the symbol, his 
name. 

1 " The individual marked by a proper name is a universal. Any indi- 
vidual man, John Jones or Richard Roe, is a unity of manifold states, 
qualities, activities, and relations. . . . The proper name marks the con- 
necting unity." — Baldwin and Stout, in Diet, of Philosophy, etc., art 
" Conception." 



THE CONDENSATION OF EXPERIENCES 1 43 

Perhaps there will come up with his name, when I speak of 
him or hear him spoken of, an image of his face ; perhaps even 
a picture or image of him, as he appeared at some particular 
time and place. But if one or another of these " constant 
associates " ^ does occur, it is, to all intents and purposes, what 
the name is, — a symbol. If, for example, my constant associ- 
ate with Mr. Smith's name is an image of him as he appeared 
at a social gathering, and if this is revived when I speak of 
him as being seriously ill, my meaning will not be obscured, 
although intrinsically the idea of serious illness would seem 
naturally to require an image of him as he would appear in 
the sick room, rather than an image of him at a social gather- 
ing. But the use of a concept in a judgment does not neces- 
sarily involve any definite and consistent imagery which would, 
in itself, represent that judgment. If it did, the capacity 
for condensing experience would mean very little to mental 
development. 

4. The Concept 0} Self. One of the best examples 
of the individual concept is the concept of self. The 
mental content represented by the pronoun / is just as 
thoroughly a product of condensation as is the concept 
of any other individual. I have a social self, a family 
self, a professional self, and, in virtue of my inherited 
tendencies, a primitive self. Each of these represents, 
in a certain measure, a distinct individual. I have 
different attitudes, different dispositions, different ways 
of looking at things, according as one or another of these 
subordinate selves is dominant. But all through these 
subordinate concepts there runs a thread of unity. Some- 

^ See W. C. Bagley, in American Journal of Psychology, 1900, vol. xii, 
p. 120. 



144 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

times, perhaps, this may be a very slender thread and, 
in pathological conditions, it may be broken off altogether. 
But normally it is a thread which, in spite of whatever 
eflforts one may make at modesty, is bound to be the 
largest and most comprehensive of one's concepts. It 
is with reference to this ultimate self that all the activi- 
ties of one's life are ordered, either explicitly or implic- 
itly. Morahty has been termed the subordination of 
individual impulses to remote social ends; but morality 
is possible only when these social ends can be identified 
with the highest and most permanent interests of the 
ultimate self. 

5. Concepts and Apperceptive Systems. An apper- 
ceptive system was defined in an earlier chapter ^ as a 
mass of experience functioning in a condensed form. 
There is an obvious correspondence between the sub- 
ordinate concepts of self, mentioned in the last para- 
graph, and the larger apperceptive systems discussed in 
the earlier chapter. Not only the concepts of self, how- 
ever, but every concept is an apperceptive system; a 
concept is an apperceptive system made explicit — made 
self-conscious. In the process of simple apperception, 
the operating systems are in the background or margin 
of consciousness; in the process of judgment, which 
is only a more complete, more elaborate form of apper- 
ception, the operating systems a^e brought into the fore- 
ground. In the conceptual judgment, the apperceptive 
^ Cb. V, above. 



THE CONDENSATION OF EXPERIENCES I45 

systems are, for purposes of convenient representation, 
attached to words or symbols. The word thus becomes 
the focal representative of the apperceptive system. One 
can deal with the word or concept precisely as one could 
deal with any of the concrete experiences from which 
it has been derived if the latter were represented con- 
sciously by its original sense ingredients. 

It should not be forgotten, however, that back of the word is 
the marginal " halo," or fringe of relations, which " carries the 
meaning," and in which the kinsesthetic sensations, represent- 
ing as they do the constant factors in experience, occupy a 
prominent place. Except from the standpoint 0/ genesis, how- 
ever, these marginal elements may be largely left out of account ; 
one may deal with words precisely as if they were, as they 
seem to be, the sole representatives, — the attenuated shadows, 
— of the original experience. But the standpoint of genesis 
is the very standpoint with which education is concerned. It 
is our business to know how these apperceptive systems are 
formed and how the words that represent them come to func- 
tion effectively. 

Professor Gore ^ emphasizes clearly the importance of the 
marginal residua of past experiences : " The conceptualist has 
contributed to the data of descriptive psychology by calling 
attention, by implication at least, to the remote and reduced 
character of the imagery which may characterize thinking. But 
it by no means follows that the more remote and reduced the 
sense-content of an image becomes, the less important is that 
sense-content for thinking, the less demand for discrimination. 
On the contrary, the sense-content that remains may be of 
supreme logical importance. It may be the quintessence of 

1 W. C. Gore : " Image and Idea in Logic," in Dewey's Studies in 
Logical Theory, pp. 201-202. 



146 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

meaning. It may be the conscious factor which, when dis- 
criminated from another almost equally sublimated conscious 
factor, may determine a whole course of action. The delicacy 
and rapidity with which these reduced forms of imagery as they 
hover about the margin of consciousness or flit across its focus 
are discriminated and caught, are points in the technique of 
that long art of thinking, begun in early childhood. The fact 
that questionnaire investigations — like that of Galton's, for 
example — have in many instances failed to discover in the 
minds of scientists and advanced thinkers a rich and varied 
furniture of imagery does not argue the poverty of imagery in 
such minds ; it argues rather a highly developed technique, a 
species of virtuosity, with reference to the sense-content of the 
types of imagery actually in use." 

To put this in another way, one may say that, in the early 
years of childhood, the words used are always associated with 
concrete imagery. In adult life, also, in dealing with unfamiliar 
subjects, the tendency to supplement the word with concrete 
imagery is very strong. But with practice in the use . of words, 
the imagery becomes more and more schematic, more and 
more symbolic, more and more representative and connota- 
tive, natil a point is reached where the expert in a certain 
field images very little, perhaps not at all so far as he can 
discover.^ 

6. Concept Building in Education. An important task 
of education is to lead the pupil to condense his experi- 
ences and attach symbols to the concepts thus formed. 
The fundamental principle that governs this process 

1 See, in this connection, Titchener's remarks upon the word-idea : 
Ouiline of Psychology, New York, 1899, pp. 309 ff.; H. M. Stanley: 
"Language and Image," in Psychological Review, 1897, ^°^* ^^» P- 7^5 
G. F. Stout: Groundwork of Psychology, New York, 1 903, ch, x; W. C. 
Bagley : " Apperception of the Spoken Sentence," in American Journal 
of Psychology, 1900, vol. xii, p. 119. 



THE CONDENSATION OF EXPERIENCES I47 

has been recognized almost from the beginning, — rec- 
ognized in theory but often sadly neglected in practice. 
This principle is formulated in the pedagogical maxim: 
"Proceed from particulars to generals and from the 
concrete to the abstract." Rightly interpreted, this 
dictum lies at the basis of all rational instruction. It 
means that there is no way to reach concepts that will 
function efficiently, save through a series of experiences 
beginning with the concrete and particular and passing 
gradually through the various stages of condensation. 
There is no "royal road to learning," and there is no 
short cut to the concept. 

But the principle must mean concrete and particular 
experiences and not necessarily concrete and particular 
objects. Mind passes "naturally" from particulars to 
generals, if one means by these terms particular expe- 
riences and general concepts. But the term "particu- 
lars" must not be confused with the term "details." 
Mind does not move normally from details to masses; 
it does not work synthetically alone, but first analyti- 
cally and then synthetically. The concrete experience 
in the first place is vague and homogeneous; by the 
operation of analysis and synthesis it is made definite 
and heterogeneous. The large, undifferentiated mass 
is the beginning; the large unity, made up of connected 
and interrelated parts, is the terminus. 

The vague, undifferentiated masses or wholes which 
constitute concrete experiences are technically termed 



148 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

"aggregate ideas." Any given situation of which per- 
ception informs us is a type of the aggregate idea. We 
break it up into parts, perceive relations between these 
parts and similar elements of past experience, and form 
a judgment, a synthesis. Obviously we can do the same 
with an ideal experience as well as with the real perceived 
situation. We may have in mind an aggregate made 
up entirely of old materials and subject it to analysis 
and synthesis in a similar manner. The term "aggre- 
gate idea" is a convenient designation and will be fre- 
quently employed in the subsequent discussions. 

7. The duty of the teacher in the process of concept 
building is to see to it that the process of condensation 
is not taken for granted, but actually worked out. The 
individual must be subjected to a number of experi- 
ences of the concrete order and led consciously to make 
the analyses, comparisons, and abstractions that are nec- 
essary to the formation of the concept. 

Consider, for example, the concept river system. By the 
approved method of teaching geography, a single river system 
is studied as a type. If possible, this will be one with which 
the pupils can deal directly, of which they can have first-hand 
knowledge. If this is the case, they will observe the various 
features of the river system from as many points of vantage as 
possible. They will represent what they see in various ways — 
by drawing, by modeling, by picturing, by describing. From 
all their experiences with this typical river system, they will 
gain somewhat of a "general" idea — a condensed experience. 
But this idea will have been condensed from experiences, not 
from objects. For a long time they will deal with one river 



THE CONDENSATION OF EXPERIENCES I49 

system ; yet, when the term is applied, it will represent a con- 
cept just as truly as if they had compared a hundred different 
river systems, abstracted the common qualities, and built up 
the general notion in the highly artificial manner described in 
the older treatises on educational psychology. Certainly this 
typical river system will be compared with others as geographi- 
cal instruction continues, and the concept will be gradually 
extended, losing, at the same time, some of its intensive char- 
acters. The point that is to be emphasized in this connection, 
however, is that the pupil may gain a working concept through 
the study of a single type. 

The grievous error of the older method of teaching arithmetic 
was, that it assumed the concepts of number and dealt entirely 
with the symbols that represent the concepts. This naturally 
led to a barren formalism in instruction, — a formalism to 
which number symbols lend themselves all too readily.^ Cer- 
tainly one who has constantly to deal with numbers must come 
in course of time to manipulate figures with little conscious ref- 
erence to their concrete bases. But one who would effectively 
use number concepts in this fine degree of condensation must 
first build up these concepts through a long series of concrete 
experiences with the particular data that they represent. 

It is in arithmetic that this danger of neglecting to pass 
through the preUminary stages of concept building is most 
clearly revealed, but other subjects of instruction have not 
been free from the blight of formalism. The " memoriter " 
method of learning geography, grammar, and history is even 
now all too common. Learning words " by heart " still has its 
place in education, but its sphere is restricted, and the process 
must be rigidly subject to certain general principles that will 
be discussed in a later section. 

^ How the introduction of the Hindu system of notation, convenient 
and time-saving as it proved to be, opened the way for formalism in arith- 
metic teaching is clearly shown by Professor D. E. Smith: Teaching oj 
Elementary Mathematics, New York, 1900, ch. iv. 



150 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

8. To summarize: (a) The process of condensation 
must work through concrete experience, (b) The ef- 
fective use of the word as the focal representative of an 
apperceptive system is conditioned entirely upon the 
faithfulness with which the details of this condensing 
process have been carried out. (c) For some time 
the word will tend to be supplemented by more or less 
concrete imagery revived from the particular experiences 
to which it is referred, (d) The most eflFective use of 
words, however, demands that this concrete imagery 
be reduced to a minimum; that the sensory components 
of the apperceptive system retire to the margin of con- 
sciousness; and that the word become the sole focal 
representative. 



PART IV. THE ORGANIZATION AND 
RECALL OF EXPERIENCE 

CHAPTER X 

The Organization of Experiences through Con- 
ceptual Judgments 

I. It has been pointed out that judgment is essen- 
tially an adaptation, an act; and this is true whether 
the judgment be of the practical or of the conceptual 
type. The physician who solves the situation with a 
conceptual judgment uses his experience as an instni- 
ment for directing adjustment just as truly as the servant 
who solves the situation with a practical judgment. 
In the latter case, experience is recalled in a concrete 
and particular form; in the former case, it is recalled 
in a condensed and symbolic form. 

Not only real situations, however, but also ideal or 
imagined situations may be solved by a process of judg- 
ment. The physician may have a fairly accurate report 
of the case before starting from his office, and on his 
way he may picture the situation and arrive at practi- 
cally the judgment that he would have reached had he 
waited for the real situation to be presented. Or, in 
his earher days, he may have "thought out" an imagi- 

151 



152 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

nary case of a similar nature and arrived at a judg* 
ment that could afterward be applied to a real situation. 
Or, again, he may have looked up the matter in a surgi- 
cal treatise before leaving his office and appropriated 
the conceptual judgment which the author of the treatise 
recommended as a solution of such a situation. 

In other words, the finished product of a conceptual 
judgment may itself function as a condensed experience 
in facing new situations. The average man has at his 
command a number of judgments already made. He 
has come into possession of these in various ways : some 
he has worked out for himself, some he has gained in 
social intercourse, . some are due to his reading. How 
he has gained them we shall find to be a very impor- 
tant factor in their effective use. In the present connec- 
tion, however, it is enough to know that they can be 
used. The repeated appHcation of a "preformed" 
judgment, however, does not involve so complicated a 
process as that required for its first elaboration. Indeed 
the application of these preformed judgments may fre- 
quently approximate the operation of habit. Inasmuch, 
however, as the process is normally focal, it may be 
termed a judgment; that is, the application of a 
preformed judgment to a given situation is in itself a 
judgment, for it is the conscious application of past 
experience to a present problem. 

2. Reasoning. This distinction furnishes a basis for 
an adequate definition of reasoning. Essentially, it is 



THE ORGANIZATION OF EXPERIENCES 1 53 

the formation of a judgment "out of the whole cloth," 
— the solution of a new experience in an entirely new 
way. The physician of long practice will make a rapid 
examination of the condition in which he finds his pa- 
tient and immediately come to the judgment, "This is 
malarial fever," or "This burn must be dressed with 
a dry bandage." The thinking, the reasoning, that 
such a process involves is scarcely more strenuous than 
that of the layman who casually remarks that it is a fine 
day. But somewhere and at some time the physician 
had to go through a severe course of reasoning in order 
to arrive at such a judgment. Even now, in very novel 
or very critical cases he would do so. 

It is very easy to become confused upon this point. Formal 
logic recognizes syntheses of subjects and predicates as judg- 
ments, and syntheses of judgments as reasoning, whenever cer- 
tain formal conditions are fulfilled. Any grammatical sentence 
fulfills such conditions, therefore any grammatical sentence 
may be looked upon as a judgment. To the psychologist a 
grammatical sentence may represent a judgment, but this does 
not in the least imply that the capacity to put words together 
grammatically means the capacity for judgment. 

This point is well brought out by Professor Titchener^ in 
the following paragraph : — 

" Man has dubbed himself homo sapiens, and defined him- 
self as a ' rational animal ' ; but he rarely thinks. For we are, 
all of us, born into a society where judgments await us ready- 
made ; every generation receives a heritage of judgments from 
the preceding generations. Hence facts that cost our ancestors 
immense pains to work out come to us as a matter of course. 

1 E. B. Titchener: Primer of Psychology, p. 217. 



154 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

Society is already organized; then we do not need to make 
judgments about social organization. A form of religion is 
established ; we need not judge for ourselves in religious mat- 
ters. A code of conduct has been laid down; we need not 
judge in matters of conduct. The applications of scientific 
principles are seen all about us, — we may take the steam- 
engine and the telegraph for granted. Life is made smooth 
for us by the accumulated work of past generations. ... It 
follows from this that propositions like, ' The grass is green ' 
are not judgments at all ; they do not express results that we 
have gained laboriously by active attention." 

Miss Thompson* has also called attention to this distinc- 
tion : " A large portion of the so-called judgments considered 
by logicians, even by those who emphasize that a judgment is 
an actf are really not judgments at all, but contents of thought 
which are the outcome of judgments — what might be called 
dead judgments, instead of live judgments. When we analyze 
a real act of judgment, as it occurs in a living process of 
thought, we find given elements which are always present. 
There is always a certain situation which demands a reaction." 

3. Reasoning, then, in the strict sense of the word is 
a relatively rare process and occurs only in the formation 
of a judgment de novo. In the great bulk of our daily 
activities, we apply ready-made judgments to the situa- 
tions presented, rather than analyze the situations and 
form therefrom entirely new judgments. In the former 
case, however, there will be something of the process of 
judgment, only much less complex than the more elabo- 
rate process for which the term "reasoning" has been 
reserved. A term is needed, therefore, to cover this 

1 Helen Bradford Thompson, op. eit., p. 108. 



THE ORGANIZATION OF EXPERIENCES 1 55 

application of preformed judgments to given situations, 
— a term that will cover the middle ground between the 
automatic functioning of experience as habit and the maxi- 
mally conscious functioning of experience as reasoning. 

Professor McLennan^ has used the term intuitive 
judgment to designate a class of this intermediate type 
This class is exempUfied in the manner in which an 
expert responds to a situation as contrasted with the 
reaction of a novice or a layman, 

"To the intuitive judgment there is no hesitation, no aloof- 
ness. Action is direct, but entirely self-conscious. That such 
a type of judgment as the intuitive exists, there can be no 
doubt. There is all the difference in the world between the 
quality of consciousness of a mere layman and that of an expert, 
no matter what the line. It is a process whose parts are suc- 
cessive, whether much or little difficulty be experienced. For 
the expert situations are taken in at a glance, parts and wholes 
are simultaneous and immediate. Yet the meaning is entirely 
exact. The expert judgment is self-conscious to the last de- 
gree. While other individuals are thinking out what they do, 
the expert has it, sees the advantage, adjusts, and moves. De- 
mand and solution jump together. . . . Only in so far as we 
become experts in our special fields of experience, and have 
reduced our instruments of action to precise control, can we 
expect the presence of intuitive judgments. They remain, 
therefore, as the final outcome of the judgment-function made 
perfect in its technique and use." 

The term intuitive seems to be an excellent desig- 
nation for this type of judgment, for it impUes that the 

^ S. F. McLennan : " Stages in the Development of Judgment," in 
Dewey's Studies in Logical Theory, pp. 139 ff. 



156 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

process has a certain resemblance to habit. It differs 
from the judgment of reasoning, — which Professor 
McLennan aptly terms "reflective," — in that the inter- 
vening stages of analysis and synthesis have been left 
out or reduced to a minimum — the "reasoning" has 
been eliminated. As the author puts it, "Demand and 
solution jump together," "Situations are taken in at a 
glance, parts and wholes are simultaneous and immedi- 
ate." The term seems thoroughly adequate also to 
cover the application to existing situations of most of 
the preformed judgments gained through social heredity, 
— the commonplaces of everyday conversation. This 
is the field where we are all experts, as it were; or, at 
least, where only Uttle children and savages are laymen. 

Professor McLennan would doubtless prefer to identify these 
last-named judgments with what he terms the impersonal type. 
But, as he points out, there is a clear resemblance between the 
impersonal and intuitive forms ; and, inasmuch as the multipli- 
cation of technical terms must be avoided as far as possible in 
a work of this kind, it may be safe to neglect the differences, 
and to consider the two forms as identical. 

4. The Aggregate Idea in Reasoning. The process of 
true reasoning — the formation of a judgment de novo 
rather than the application of a preformed judgment — in- 
volves what has already been referred to as an "aggregate 
idea." This is a more or less vagye, more or less undiffer- 
entiated mass, represented in consciousness by concrete 
sense materials, "tags" of meaning, disconnected con- 



THE ORGANIZATION OF EXPERIENCES 1 5/ 

cepts, and, if one is facing a real situation, a complex 
of perceptual elements. The process of reasoning con- 
sists in "working over" this mass in active attention, 
analyzing it, discovering the relations that exist between 
its several parts, and reconstructing the whole in a defi- 
nite judgment or series of judgments.^ 

5. Logical Reasoning. Sometimes the materials of 
the aggregate idea consist entirely of preformed judg- 
ments. The task is then to arrange these judgments 
in logical order, — that is, in the order that reveals at 
a glance the relation between them, — and to express 
this relation in the form of a new judgment. All this 
may, of course, be done for us and we may simply bor- 
row the result, but, in case we do it for ourselves, we are 
performing an act of logical reasoning; and this holds 
true whether the judgments with which we deal have 
themselves been borrowed or whether we have worked 
them out for ourselves from still simpler data. 

6. Logical reasoning assumes two general forms: in- 
duction and deduction. In a process of inductive reason- 
ing, one passes from a number of particular judgments 
to a more general judgment; one recognizes in the par- 
ticulars a -common principle which one abstracts and 
generalizes. The process is similar to that of the forma- 
tion of concepts, except that here one deals with con- 

^ A very good illustration of a process of true reasoning and the reduc- 
tion of an aggregate idea is cited by Titchener : Primer of Psychology^ 
p. 217. 



158 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

densed experiences of a particular nature, rather than 
with concrete experiences. 

The formation of any great principle of natural science will 
illustrate the workings of inductive reasoning. Take, for ex- 
ample, the law that eighteen inches of rainfall annually is the 
minimal amount that will support agriculture without artificial 
irrigation. This is a generalization drawn from a number of 
particular judgments regarding the influence of rainfall upon 
agriculture in thousands of particular instances. Agriculture 
was attempted in this place with sixteen inches of rainfall ; it 
proved a failure. In another place, seventeen inches were 
available, but results were not obtained. In this locality, twenty 
inches of rain fell during the year ; agriculture was carried on 
successfully with careful cultivation. Nineteen inches gave 
similar results. With eighteen inches, let us say, the number 
of successes just overtopped the number of failures. Hence 
the general law. All the important principles of science have 
been gained largely in this way. The principle of gravitation 
and the law of evolution are perhaps the most notable examples. 

In the work of education, we make frequent use of induc- 
tive reasoning. Take, for example, the simple experiments 
performed in nature study. The teacher wishes to develop in 
his class the general principle that the germination of seeds 
depends upon moisture and warmth. A number of boxes are 
provided, in each of which similar seeds are to be placed. Two 
boxes are filled with damp and dry loam, others wdth damp and 
dry sand, others with damp and dry sponges, others with damp 
and dry blotting paper. A dupHcate series of boxes is prepared 
in precisely the same way. One series is placed in a warm room, 
another in some place where the temperature is close to the 
freezing point. The children observe the behavior of the seeds 
under these various conditions. Each box represents, as it 
were, the center of an aggregate idea, out of which, in the 
course of time, the pupils will make one of these judgments : 



THE ORGANIZATION OF EXPERIENCES 1 59 

" The seeds in this box germinate in damp sand ; " " These 
seeds do not germinate in dry sand ; " " These seeds germinate 
in damp sand in a warm room ; " " These seeds do not ger- 
minate in damp sand in the cold," etc. Finally, these particular 
judgments are put together in the more general judgment, or 
principle : " Moisture and warmth are necessary to the ger- 
mination of seeds." In a similar manner, the negative judg- 
ment, " Darkness is not necessary to the germination of seeds," 
or the judgment, "Light, warmth, and moisture are essential 
to the growth of green plants," may be reached, each repre- 
senting a definite act of inductive reasoning upon the basis of 
particular judgments formed from actual observation. 

7. Deductive reasoning proceeds from a general judg- 
ment to an individual or less general judgment. In a 
sense, it is an explicit application of a principle covering 
a large number of particular cases to one of the cases 
which the principle covers. It is represented schemati- 
cally by the well-known formula of the syllogism : — 

J/isP, 
S is My 
therefore, S is P. 

Or, as it is worked out in the classic example : — 

All men are mortal ; 
Socrates is a man ; 
therefore, Socrates is mortal. 

Deductive reasoning subserves two very important 
functions in the economy of Ufe: (a) the function of 
explanation or solution, exemplified when one identifies an 
object of experience as a member of a still larger class, 
or recognizes a process as the expression of a more gen- 



l60 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

eral law; and (b) the function of anticipation or predic- 
tion, exemplified wlien one makes a judgment about 
some situation with which direct, sensuous experience 
is impossible, or in the solution of which the formation 
of judgments from direct experience would be a slow, 
laborious, and unprofitable process. 

The first function is really a process of apperception, in 
which all the operating apperceptive systems are made ex- 
plicit. A situation is presented which baffles the individual 
for the moment. He does not know what to do with it, how to 
relate it to the needs of his life. He studies it carefully, hoW' 
ever, and finally identifies it with a group of other similar phe- 
nomena which are described by a certain law or principle. 
Immediately the situation " clears up." The operation of that 
particular principle has a definite and well-known relation to 
his life. The mystery is solved and the appropriate adjust- 
ment results. The process is quite similar to simple apper- 
ception, except that it is long drawn out and thoroughly 
self-conscious in all its details. 

The second function of deductive reasoning is illustrated 
typically by the discovery of the planet Neptune. The planet 
Uranus had been observed for several years, and its position at 
successive periods of any given year could be predicted with 
mathematical certainty. But in the course of time it happened 
that Uranus failed to act according to the astronomers' calcu- 
lations. John Couch Adams argued that the apparent aberra- 
tions in the planet's course were not due to an error in the 
previous calculations, as many supposed, but to the presence of 
another planet beyond Uranus. During the same year, Lever- 
rier reached a similar conclusion, maintaining that, by all the 
known laws of celestial mechanics, the behavior of Uranus 
could be explained only by assuming the existence of a large 
planet beyond. He even went so far as to compute the orbit 



THE ORGANIZATION OF EXPERIENCES l6l 

of this hitherto unknown planet from the data furnished by 
Uranus, and in the following year (1846) the planet Neptune 
was revealed by a new and powerful telescope within 1° of the 
point indicated. 

8. The great majority of the judgments with which 
education furnishes the individual are useful only under 
the condition that they may be made the bases of deduc- 
tive reasoning; and the paramount problem of educa- 
tional method is to determine how these judgments are 
to be imparted in order most efficiently to function in 
this way. It will do the pupil little good, for instance, if, 
after learning that eighteen inches of rainfall are essen- 
tial to agriculture without irrigation, he joins in the next 
wild rush to populate a semi- arid region — such a migra- 
tory movement, perhaps, as that witnessed in the "boom" 
days of western Kansas and Nebraska. It is one func- 
tion of education to prevent just such blunders. 

9. The Organization of Judgments. When a vast 
number of experiences, having reference to some defi- 
nite phase of life, are reduced to judgment form, corre- 
lated with one another, and combined into a system, 
there results a "body" of knowledge or a science. Thus 
every science, such as physics, botany, sociology, is a 
body of organized and interrelated judgments gained 
from thousands of different experiences or drawn from 
more general judgments which, in turn, rest upon expe- 
rience. 

But this organization and systematization of judg- 



1 62 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

ments, no matter how elaborately it may be worked out, 
still has as its end or purpose the modification of adjust- 
ment. Improvement in the organization of facts and 
principles means that they are more closely related to 
one another; that, instead of being "massed," they are 
shot through with a multitude of connections; and that, 
in virtue of these connections, they may be recalled 
most readily and apphed most effectively. The aim of 
each science is to arrange its judgments in a system, 
the component parts of which shall harmonize perfectly 
with one another. 

As Hobhouse ^ points out, what we term " common sense " 
differs from scientific thought in this respect. Common sense 
cares nothing for fine distinctions that do not subserve imme- 
diate practical ends. If a law or a principle " works," that in 
itself is sufficient. That laws or principles may be logically 
inconsistent with one another fails to be a disturbing factor. 
But a science seeks to put all the judgments relating to its 
special province into a consistent and coherent whole. If 
they do not harmonize, their premises must again be sought 
out, subjected to new and more rigid analyses, and resynthe- 
tized. Hence, as science develops, more exact and more 
refined methods of attacking the aggregate idea come to be 
applied. There is greater nicety of analysis ; greater accuracy 
in comparing, measuring, weighing ; greater care in drawing 
conclusions, either inductively or deductively. 

All these refinements of method may look, on the surface, 
to be remotely removed from what one terms " practical " ends. 
One speaks of the efforts of science to build up coherent sys- 
tems of knowledge as " theoretical." In the universities, there 

1 L. T. Hobhouse : Mind in Evolution, pp. 329 £f. 



THE ORGANIZATION OF EXPERIENCES 1 63 

are scores of investigators who spend their time over what seem 
at first glance to be the most futile problems, — problems that 
appear to have not the slightest significance to the vital ques- 
tions of life. And if we ask these investigators why they spend 
priceless time in solving impractical problems, they will tell us 
that it is all for the sake of truth, and that they care nothing 
for the " common-sense " estimate of their work. 

But truth is only another name for a consistent system of 
judgments, and no system that presents gaps or lacunae can be 
thoroughly complete. Facts and principles which may not 
have a practical value in direct application to the situations or 
problems of life may still have a theoretical value in bringing 
nearer to perfection a system of knowledge. The history of 
civilization sufficiently demonstrates that experience is most 
effectively applied when it is formulated in such a system ; 
hence judgments that have only a theoretical value at the 
outset may ultimately, through devious channels that escape 
our view, find a useful and timely application to the pressing 
problems of existence. 

10. Philosophy, which may be called the science of 
sciences, is popularly supposed to be the most "im- 
practical" pursuit to which the energies of man can be 
given ; for, while a science may bring forth some detailed 
judgments that find immediate practical application, phi- 
losophy is entirely concerned with making the various 
sciences consistent with one another and in tracing out 
the fundamental postulates upon which all knowledge 
rests. Its goal is the coherent organization of all knowl- 
edge. Yet the fact that improvement in organization 
yields practical results in the various special sciences 
justifies our faith that a still wider improvement of 



164 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

organization which aims to bring all the facts and prin- 
ciples of all sciences into a coherent system will work 
an influence on practical life commensurate with its com- 
prehensive character. Thus, though philosophy "bakes 
no cakes," as the ancient proverb reminds us, its influ- 
ence may still operate to render even the baking of cakes 
more efficient. 

The work of Herbert Spencer, dealing though it did with 
abstract and theoretical themes, revealed the principle of evo- 
lution as the one permanent essence in all our experiences with 
nature, with mind, and with society. The recognition of this 
principle has had the most profound effect upon the practical 
affairs of life. There is scarcely a field of human labor that it 
has not modified. Agriculture has been revolutionized, medi- 
cine has been founded upon a new and firmer foundation, and 
even government and practical politics have felt its influence. 

II. The fact that the organization of experience in 
coherent systems is a fundamental factor in promoting 
the appHcation of experience to the practical improve- 
ment of adjustment is profoundly significant to the pro- 
cess of education.^ A large number of the judgments 
that education impresses will serve, not so much in 
direct appUcation to the needs of life as in cementing 
together the various parts o^sl coherent body of knowl- 
edge. But the educator must never lose sight of the 
fact that his work is ultimately to be measured and 
judged by practical standards; ultimately all knowl- 
edge must have practical worth. Simply because a mul- 

1 Cf. L. F. Ward: Dynamic Sociology, New York, 1897, vol. ii, p. 542. 



THE ORGANIZATION OF EXPERIENCES l6$ 

titude of stages may intervene between the assimilation 
of experience and its outcome in action, one must not be 
deceived into believing that mind exists for any purpose 
other than the modification and direction of adjustments. 
Nature does not provide luxuries that subserve no pur- 
pose; and a mind that assimilated knowledge for its 
own sake would certainly be such a luxury. 

But while education must recognize this standard, it 
will still be untroubled by the popular clamor for the 
"practical." It will understand that practical ends are 
sometimes best subserved by seemingly impractical 
means, and that, in ways far beyond the ken of "com- 
mon sense," the judgments which that common sense 
derides as purely theoretical may converge upon and 
improve even so prosaic a task as digging a ditch; for 
just as no fact is so small that theoretical science may 
neglect it, so no human duty is so mean or lowly that 
this same theoretical science may not enhghten and 
ennoble it. 

It is not to be inferred, however, that the individual who 
assimilates knowledge is necessarily conscious of the ultimate 
function which this knowledge is to fulfill in his life. One must 
distinguish carefully between the ultimate value that education 
may see in subject-matter of instruction and the interest that 
the individual may have in this subject-matter. The investi- 
gator may work solely and simply from an abstract love of 
truth, taking no thought whatsoever of even the indirect bear- 
ing of his conclusions upon practical life. Further than this, 
the love of truth may be only an empty phrase to him, and the 



1 66 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

real motive that keeps him to his work may be a mere delight 
in that particular form of activity called investigation, — an 
acquired interest, growing directly out of the primitive instinct 
of curiosity. Viewed from the subjective standpoint, the satis- 
faction of this interest is a commendable end in itself, — but, 
from the social standpoint, it is commendable only because 
experience has proved that society is, in the long run, the 
gainer if men are permitted to investigate for the sake of inves- 
tigation. In other words, investigation is an individual interest 
that society confirms as ultimately promoting social welfare. 

12. In the discussion hitherto, the terms fact, law, 
principle, generalization, have frequently recurred. It 
is well to have a definite connotation for each of these 
terms. A fact, for our purposes, is a judgment of the 
particular type, representing, one may say, the solution 
of an aggregate idea made up largely of concrete sense- 
material. In the illustration cited above, the judg- 
ments, "These seeds germinate in damp sand," "These 
seeds do not germinate in dry sand," are facts. The 
terms "generalization," "law," and "principle" may 
be looked upon as synonymous. Each represents the 
statement of a relation that is constant in a number of 
separate facts. Thus the judgment, "All seeds require 
heat and moisture for germination," is a generalization, 
a law, or a principle. In view of its universal validity, 
it is also known in logic as a universal judgment. A 
judgment that is drawn from a comparatively few facts 
and inferred to cover a much larger number is termed 
a hypothetical judgment, or a hypothesis. 



THE ORGANIZATION OF EXPERIENCES 1 67 

The organization of judgments into systems of knowl- 
edge also gives rise to some technical terms that should 
be used in a definite manner. An investigator working 
in a special field of knowledge generally confines his 
constructive efforts to a very small corner of that field. 
He attempts first to discover facts and then to work 
these facts up into principles or generahzations of a 
comparatively simple nature. The written or printed 
record of such investigations, together with the conclu- 
sions that he draws from them, is termed a monograph, 
and the investigator himself is a specialist. A second 
corps of workers might analogously be called generalists. 
They work over the facts and principles brought out by 
the specialists and attempt to put these together in a 
coherent system.^ The record of their work is termed a 
treatise. Finally, there is a third class of workers who 
deal with the relations of the several sciences to one 
another and to hfe in general. These are the philoso- 
phers, and their writings as works of philosophy fall into 
several subclasses. In addition to all these, there are 
men who sum up in brief form the main facts and prin- 
ciples in the larger fields and produce text-hooks. A 
text-book may take the form of a treatise, but, as a rule, 
it is a compilation from a number of treatises and aims 
at brevity and simpHcity of treatment. 

The principle of compensation would suggest that a high 
degree of efficiency in more than one of these lines would be 
* Hence the term sysiematist'is often used as a synonym oi generalist. 



l68 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

exceptional. This inference is strongly confirmed by experi- 
ence. There seems to be a distinctive type of mind that is 
either adapted to or developed by speciahzed research, and 
unusual ability along this line seems quite to preclude ev^n 
mediocre attainments in philosophy and system. Occasionally 
we find a man, like Darwin or Wundt, who is an exception to 
this rule ; but, in general, the scientists are poor philosophers, 
and the philosophers are rather less than indifferent scientists. 



CHAPTER XI 
The Factors of Efficient Recall 

1. The functioning of experience in consciousness 
is characteristic of all forms of judgment, and whatever 
is to function effectively in consciousness must be capable 
of revival or recall. This implies that the factors which 
condition the revival of experience will be of extreme 
importance from the educational point of view. 

2. (a) The Recall of Concrete Experience. Psycho- 
logical investigation ^ has shown that abihty to revive 
concrete sense impressions involves one or more of four 
separate factors: (i) recency, (2) primacy, (3) vivid- 
ness, and (4) frequency. 

(i) The more recently an impression has been made, 
the more Hkely it is (other things equal) to be brought 
up again in consciousness. This is, of course, a matter 
of commonplace knowledge and needs no demonstra- 
tion. From an educational standpoint, however, recency 
is not an important factor in recall, for the obvious reason 
that education works toward a comparatively remote end. 
In a negative way, it is important to know that mere 
"cramming" may produce the most deceptive results, 

1 See particularly Mary W. Calkins : " Association," in PsycJiological 
Review Monograph Supplements, 1896, vol. i, no. 2. 

169 



170 THE EDUCATIVE PROCEWS 

and that measures must be taken to check the opera- 
tion of this factor to the subversion of the true purpose 
of education. 

(2) Primacy, as a factor of efficient recall, finds expres- 
sion in the popular phrase, "First impressions are last- 
ing." It is the new thing that "catches the attention.'' 
We remember in great detail the events of our first com- 
ing to a certain town or to a certain school. The re- 
maining events of our stay may be vague and shadowy 
enough, but the initial impressions stand out clear and 
distinct. As with the factor of recency, education is 
concerned with primacy in only a slight degree. First 
impressions color later experiences, hence it is always 
well to make one's introduction to a subject of study 
or a line of work as pleasant and agreeable as possible. 
Not a few individuals have probably been effectually 
discouraged from that persistent effort which is every- 
where essential to success by some unpleasant occur- 
rence at the outset which tinges all future endeavor. 

(3) The value of vividness in promoting recall is Uke- 
wise a matter of commonplace knowledge. We remem- 
ber experiences that have, for one reason or another, 
made a "deep" impression upon our minds. A serious 
accident or an exciting episode is likely to be retained 
indefinitely, even to its concrete details. Needless to 
say, however, impressions are vivid because of their 
contrast to other impressions that lack this character- 
istic; hence not all impressions can be given this advan- 



THE FACTORS OF EFFICIENT RECALL I /I 

tage. Furthermore, vivid impressions mean an abnormal 
nervous activity, hence a multipHcity of such experiences 
would doubtless promote a nervous breakdown. This 
is seen very plainly among those who live for some time 
under conditions of great excitement. 

Notwithstanding this disadvantage, however, the factor 
of vividness is extremely important in education. If the 
child is to be corrected for a serious fault, it is neces- 
sary to make the experience of correction as vivid as 
possible in order absolutely to insure an inhibitory effect 
in the future. Vividness is also important in the early 
stages of education, when the child is still under the sway 
of passive attention and must be appealed to through 
stimuli that solicit passive attention. With advancing 
age, the individual becomes less and less dependent 
upon these primitive means of holding the attention. 
To make an extensive use of "spectacular methods" 
at this time is to appeal to the lower apperceptive sys- 
tems, to the primitive interests; and persistent use of 
such methods cannot fail to weaken the individual. 

(4) Frequency, as a factor of efficient recall, is a syno- 
nym for repetition. As we have seen, it Hes at the basis 
of the pedagogy of habit, but it is not without impor- 
tance in the pedagogy of judgment, and especially in 
that form of judgment that lies between habit and 
reasoning and which we have termed "intuitive." The 
factor of frequency will be discussed in greater detail 
later on. 



172 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

3. These four factors of efficient recall have impor- 
tant relations to attention. Attention increases the 
vividness of an impression. Vividness and frequency, 
in so far as their effects are concerned, may be said to 
bear an inverse relation to one another. Other things 
equal, the less vivid the impression, the greater the num- 
ber of repetitions essential to insure its efficient recall. 
The relation is analogous to driving a nail by a single 
sledge-hammer blow or by a number of light taps. This 
is why we laid so much stress upon repetition in atten- 
tion as the essential principle of habit-forming. The 
more strenuous the attention, the more quickly will 
repetition reach the goal of automatism and vice versa} 

The relation of attention to primacy is equally clear. 
Attention abhors monotony as nature abhors a vacuum. 
It is the new, the changing, the varying that solicit atten- 
tion; consequently, through the virtue of attention, 
the new impression becomes the vivid impression. Re- 
cency, on the other hand, bears an inverse relation to 
attention. The recent experience is recalled in spite 
of the fact that the attention that it aroused was only 
of slight degree. It is for this reason that recency 
has the least significance to education; it does not pro- 
mote the efficient recall of experience except by accident. 

4, {h) The Recall 0} Condensed Experiences. Al- 
though the four factors just discussed find their chief 

1 Cf. E. S. Swift : " Acquisition of Skill in Type-writing," in Psychological 
Bulletin, 1904, vol. i, pp. 295 ff. 



THE FACTORS OF EFFICIENT RECALL 1 73 

tpliere of activity in the practical judgment, they are not 
without importance in connection with the conceptual 
juugxnenu. ine condensed experiences which the latter 
form of judgment involves must be represented by sym- 
bols, but these symbols are, intrinsically, concrete sense- 
materials. The word "horse" is just as much a matter 
of concrete auditory kinaesthetic or visual kinaesthetic 
imagery as the image of a particular horse is a matter 
of visual imagery. The principle "Dry bandages dress 
this type of burns" is embodied in words which form 
concrete sense-material just as surely as the servant's 
revived idea of his master dressing a burn with dry band- 
ages. Therefore the factors that condition the recall 
of concrete sense-material will serve, under the proper 
conditions, to effect the recall of condensed experiences. 

Repetition is doubtless the factor that operates most 
frequently in this connection, and repetition is prob- 
ably more important in the recall of judgments that are 
borrowed frorii, other sources than in the recall of judg- 
ments that one reasons out for one's self. 

5^ B\it even under the most favorable conditions, 
any or all of the four factors above mentioned are inade- 
quate to a maximally efficient recall of condensed expe- 
rip^r^'^ Indeed, the very virtue of condensation lies 
in the fact that it promotes the operation of a factor 
of recall that far transcends all others. This factor 
is organization, which is, in essence, the grasping to- 
gether of judgments by means of their "thought con- 



174 



THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 



nections." Combinations of sentences that have no 
relation to one another can, it is true, be fixed in mind 
by verbal repetition, but the task is dishearteningly 
tedious and the results inconsequential. But once let 
the sentences bear a definite relation to one another, 
once let them be bound together by a thread of unity, 
and they may be lodged in the memory and become 
amenable to efficient recall with very little effort. 

This is most clearly brought out by the psychological ex- 
periments upon memory that have followed in the wake of 
Ebbinghaus's ^ classic investigations. Ebbinghaus constructed a 
number of " nonsense " syllables made up of two consonants and 
a vowel so combined that they would not form a significant word, 
— for example, bok, jak, neb, hip, etc. Among other experi- 
ments, he compared the time required for "committing" a 
series of twelve of these nonsense syllables with the time re- 
quired for learning a stanza of Byron's " Don Juan." The fol- 
lowing table is typical of the results obtained in this test; the 
Roman numerals indicate the successive days of the tests, the 
Arabic numerals the number of repetitions necessary to make 
mastery perfect. 





I 


n 


III 


IV 


V 


VI 


Nonsense syllables . . 
Significant stanza . . 


16.5 

7-75 


II.O 

3-75 


7-5 
1-75 




3-0 
0.0 


2.5 
0.0 





Even more convincing testimony is offered by the experi- 
ments of Miss Lottie Steffens.^ She compared two methods 

^ H. Ebbinghaus: Ueber das Gedachiniss, 1885. 

2 Lottie Steffens : " Zur Lehre vom okonomischen Lernen," in Zeit' 
ichrift fiir Psychologic, etc., 1900, vol. xxii, pp. 321 ff. 



THE FACTORS OF EFFICIENT RECALL 1/5 

of learning one stanza of " Childe Harold's Pilgrimage " : (i) the 
"piecemeal" method, — repeating a single line over and over 
until it is mastered, then proceeding to the second Une, and 
so on ; and (2) the " complete " method, — reading the stanza 
through as a whole, then repeating the operation until the 
whole is mastered. She found that the complete method is by 
far the more economical. This conclusion has been verified by 
a number of other investigators, among them Lobsien,^ Pent- 
schew,^ Des Bancels,^ and Ephrussi.* 

The " piecemeal " method, it will be noted, is really a learn- 
ing of comparatively disconnected sentences, while the " com- 
plete " method involves the operation of " thought unities." 
The same principle explains the differences found by Ebbing- 
haus in the mastery of nonsense syllables and significant words. 
Hobhouse* utiHzes both these experimental sources to demon- 
strate the efficacy of the factor of organization as contrasted 
with vividness and repetition in the recall of experiences that 
function in the conceptual judgment.' 

6. Organization in Education. How the factor of 
organization operates in education may be clearly seen 
by comparing the old memoriter methods of teaching 
geography and history with the modern "rational" 

1 Marx Lobsien : " Memorieren," in Zeitschrift fur pSJagogische Psy- 
chologie, etc., 1902, vol. iv, pp. 293-306. 

* C. Pentschew : " Untersuchungen zur Oekonomie und Technik de« 
Lernens," in Archiv fur die gesamte Psychologie, 1903, vol. i, pp. 417-526. 

* J. L. Des Bancels : " Sur les Methodes de Memorisation," in Annie 
Psychologique, 1902, vol. viii, pp. 185-204. 

* P. Ephrussi : " Experimentelle Beitrage zur Lehre vom Gedachtnis," 
in Zeitschrift fir Psychologie, 1905, vol. iv, pp. 56-103. 

^ Hobhouse, op. cit., pp. 120 ff. 

® For further practical applications of the " memory " experiments, 
see O. Lipmann, in Journal fiir Psychologie und Neurologie, 1903, voL 
ii, pp. 108 fF. 



176 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

methods. Instead of memorizing a number of dis- 
connected facts, the present plan is to emphasize the 
connection between facts, to show how each is related 
to the others, and how, through all, there runs a certain 
thread of unity which may frequently be formulated 
as a general principle or law. 

In treating Washington's retreat across New Jersey, for ex- 
ample, the teacher of history will first lead his pupils to see 
why the retreat was necessary, then why it was made in this 
particular direction, and so on. It is a fact that Columbus dis- 
covered America in 1492. It is also a fact that the Turks 
captured Constantinople in 1453. There is a distinct causal 
relation between these two facts, and the tracing of this relation 
forms a " thought connection " which will serve to fix the two 
facts in memory far more effectively than an indefinite amount 
of rote learning. It is well to know that the Missouri Com- 
promise was made in 1820; it is better to know the sig- 
nificance of the Missouri Compromise in the long series of 
incidents that constituted the antislavery agitation. 

Similarly, in geography, it is no longer thought to be sufficient 
for the child to memorize a number of disconnected facts about 
a country, — that New York is the largest city in the United 
States, that Cleveland is an important center of the iron and 
steel industries, that flour is manufactured in Minneapolis. 
These isolated facts are grouped under large principles, — prin- 
ciples that serve to give the facts a human significance and to 
bind them together in connected systems. In other words, the 
keynote of modern methods in history and geography is to 
" trace out " causal connections, to discover the underlying 
principles that unite disparate judgments. Just as the single, 
particular judgment is a condensation from a number of con- 
crete experiences, so the general principle is a condensation 
from a number of particular judgments. Experience functions 



THE FACTORS OF EFFICIENT RECALL 1 77 

the more effectively in modifying adjustment the more thor- 
oughly it is condensed and organized into principles. To 
paraphrase a famous dictum of the philosopher Kant, one may 
well say that fact without law is blind, and that observation 
without induction is stupidity gone to seed. 

7. But is education to depend entirely upon the factor 
of organization to insure the efficient recall of experiences ? 
Here one is reminded again of the extremes to which 
educational theory tends. At one time the work of the 
school is entirely of the memoriter type. Repetition 
and rote learning are the order of the day. Another 
generation sees repetition cast aside and organization 
exalted. Reasoning becomes the watchword, and any- 
thing that smacks of rote learning is rigidly, dogmati- 
cally abjured. In the one case, there is a barren 
formalism that mechanizes the work of instruction and 
reduces the progress of the pupils to a lock step. In 
the other case, there is a futile attempt to enforce upon 
the immature mind forms and processes that are beyond 
its grasp. The various factors must be harmonized 
with the needs and capacities of the child, and it will 
be the task of the next chapter to indicate the princi- 
ples that govern this adjustment of means to ends. 

8. But even where organization becomes the lead- 
ing factor, vividness and repetition — especially repe- 
tition — may play an important, although subordinate, 
part. Suppose the rule, the principle, or the definition 
to have been rationally developed, to have been revealed 
in its proper relation to other items of knowledge, to 



178 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

have been packed full of meaning and content; it still 
remains true that this rule or principle or definition 
has a form which verbal repetition may now readily 
fix and render stable. In other words, the various fac- 
tors cooperate in making items of experience maxi- 
mally effective for recall. Jost ^ has proved that primacy 
and vividness cooperate in this way, and Lipmann ^ has 
similarly shown that experiences fixed by vividness 
are given an increased stability by repetition. It is a 
matter of commonplace knowledge that organization is 
always aided by repetition, and there can be no doubt 
that the memorizing of rules and definitions, even after 
they have been "reasoned out," may still be profitable 
in the work of education. Repetition alone, or vivid- 
ness alone, or organization alone is more prodigal of 
time and energy than a combination of two or even 
three of these factors. 

9. There is one department of education, however, 
where the sole use of the factor of repetition has an 
unquestioned right. Each of us has doubtless memo- 
rized verse and prose selections during childhood, half 
the content of the selections being entirely unnoted at 
the time. As we repeat them afterward, — perhaps 
years afterward, — we become conscious of meanings 
that we seem never before to have grasped. When 
we learned these selections, the mere sensuous pleasure 

1 Jost, in Zeitschrift fur Psychologic, etc., 19CXD, vol. xxiv, p. 459. 
^ O. Lipmann, in Zeitschrift Jur Psychologies 1904, vol. xxxv, p. 22* 



THE FACTORS OF EFFICIENT RECALL 1 79 

that attached to the rhyme and rhythm, to the succes- 
sion and juxtaposition of sounds, with perhaps a faint 
glimpse of the hidden meaning, was sufficient to warrant 
the effort. "Even half-grown boys and girls," says 
Professor Groos,^ "take but little note of the sense, com- 
pared with the interest that they bestow upon rhyme 
and rhythm. Is it not a frequent experience of full- 
grown men and women to be suddenly struck with the 
profound truth hidden in some epigrammatic form of 
expression whose euphony has a hundred times delighted 
them? They have actually failed up to that time to 
grasp the clear logical meaning of the verse or passage." 

The child who does not master some of the great poems 
and shorter masterpieces of Hterary prose when he is in 
the "memory stage" of development will realize in later 
Ufe that he has missed an important part of his intel- 
lectual heritage. He will not understand the full sig- 
nificance of the words as he learns them, but he will 
store away a veritable mine of intellectual wealth in 
which, when his higher apperceptive centers have devel- 
oped, he may delve at his heart's content. 

9. The Concentration and Correlation of Studies as 
a Means of promoting Organization. That a thorough- 
going organization of knowledge increases its revival 
value leads to the inference that studies in the school 
should be so thoroughly interrelated that each may form 

1 K. Groos: TAe Play of Man, tr. E. L. Baldwin, New York.. 1901, 
p. 21. 



l80 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

a unit in an organic whole. All educators would prob- 
ably agree that the tasks imposed upon the pupils should 
be justified by the ultimate aim of education and that, 
in this sense, subject-matter of instruction should be 
"concentrated" upon a unitary purpose. But in pre- 
cisely what degree the facts and principles imparted 
should be exphcitly related to one another in the minds 
of the pupils themselves has been a matter of some dis- 
pute. 

The theory of concentration proposed by Ziller^ arid 
indorsed with slight modifications by most of the Her- 
bartian writers seeks to organize all the subject-matter 
of instruction into a unified system, the various units 
of which shall be consciously related to one another 
in the minds of the pupils. To this end Ziller chose, 
as the central feature or "core" of the curriculum, those 
subjects which he supposed contribute most to the de- 
velopment of moral character, — namely, history and 
literature. The remaining subjects were to be taught, 
not in and for themselves, but simply because they threw 
light upon, or aided in the interpretation of, the central 
subjects. Literature finds expression in language; hence 
the study of language has a vital and, what is more impor- 
tant in Ziller' s opinion, an explicit relation to literature; 
or, in our own terminology, literature reveals the need 
for language study. History, on the other hand, involves 

* Tuiskon Ziller : Grundlegung zur Lehre vom erziehenden Unterricht, 
i865„ 



THE FACTORS OF EFFICIENT RECALL l8l 

the study of geography; geography opens the gateway 
to the natural sciences; while these in turn involve the 
conceptions of mathematics. Thus the entire elemen- 
tary curriculum is built up, not as' a mere mosaic of dis- 
connected parts, but an organic whole centraUzed about 
a unitary "core" in such a manner that the relations 
of one part to another cannot fail to become apparent 
to the pupil. 

The doctrine of concentration has been very thoroughly 
worked out and greatly elaborated by Professor Rein,^ of Jena, 
and by Professor C. A. McMurry ^ in the United States. The 
late Francis W. Parker^ also proposed a thoroughgoing system 
of organization, somewhat similar to that of the Herbartians, 
but utilizing science rather than culture-subjects as the " core." 

lo. Of late the term "correlation" has largely replaced 
"concentration" to indicate the organization of studies 
in the school. One may recognize the principle of or- 
ganization in correlating the various disciplines with one 
another without attempting, as did Ziller and Parker, 
to make one subject or set of subjects the central core 
to which everything else must be subordinated. Sub- 
ject-matter must be organized, but not in so fine a degree 
that the values of the various units will be lost to view. 
There are a great many facts and principles of arith- 
metic that will not be needed in the study of the natural 

1 Cf. C. De Garmo : Herbart and the Herbartians^ New York, 1896, 
ch. vi. 

* C. A. McMurry: General Method, New York, 1903. 

• F. W. Parker : Talks on Pedagogics, New York, 1894. 



1 82 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

sciences or of geography, but which arc still important 
in life. Similarly, there are many chapters in the formal 
study of language which have unquestioned value and 
yet which do not apply to the study of literature. Arith- 
metic must be taught in a measure as a "closed system," 
organically complete within its own limits, and the same 
will be true of geography, history, and the natural sciences. 
To make the separate parts of a single science coherent 
and unified will add to the revival value of these parts. 
To show the relation between certain facts of history 
and certain facts of geography will contribute to the 
revival value of each ; but to teach history as history and 
geography as geography certainly does not preclude 
such a correlation, while to teach geography simply 
as an adjunct to history would preclude whatever value 
might accrue from the independent organization of the 
former. In short, the doctrine of correlation, while 
it recognizes the wisdom of relating different subjects 
of instruction to one another, also recognizes the virtue 
of a coherent organization within the limits of each 
subject. 

Certainly at some time of the pupil's life he should 
make an effort to grasp the entire body of knowledge 
in a schematic outline, where the relations between dif- 
ferent parts will be thoroughly expUcit; but the time 
when this can be done profitably comes only with rea- 
sonable maturity, — perhaps in later adolescence. This 
large, comprehensive attitude toward knowledge is the 



THE FACTORS OF EFFICIENT RECALL 1 83 

specific province of philosophy. Prior to the prosecu- 
tion of this study, organization is certainly not to be 
neglected, but it is to be confined within certain limits 
which can be determined only by practical experience 
in the class room. The standard by which these limi- 
tations are to be judged, however, is this: Does organi- 
zation, up to this point, contribute essentially to the 
efficient recall of the units organized? 



CHAPTER Xn 

The functioning of the Factors of Recall in 
Education as modified by the Periods of 
Child Development 

I. The charge of "loose" Schoolcraft and a demand 
for a return to the older and harsher educative methods 
frequently recur in contemporary educational literature.-^ 
Under the present regime, it is asserted, drill and disci- 
phne have become obsolete terms, effort is at a discount, 
and the net result is a loss of stamina and a weakening 
of the moral fiber. But when these charges are made, 
the "new" education seldom lacks a champion to defend 
it.^ The harsher methods, it is maintained, have been 
justly ehminated. The well-drilled, finely disciplined 
individual is at best a machine, and modern life requires 
deUcate judgments, adequate to ever dififering situations, 
rather than the machine reaction adapted only to typi- 
cal situations. 

Both parties to this controversy appear to have neg- 
lected some very important data that have been accumu- 

^ Of., for example, Barrett Wendell, in North American Review, Sep- 
tember, 1904, vol. clxxix, pp. 388-401. 

2 Cf. an editorial in the Nation, October 20, 1904, vol. Ixxix, pp. 311- 
312; also F. A. Fitzpatrick : "Reflections of an Iconoclast," in Educa- 
tional Review, 1905, vol. xxix, pp. 1 51-162. 

184 



PERIODS OF DEVELOPMENT 1 8$ 

lated during the past ten years by the now unpopular 
and much-abused cult of "Child Study," and this neglect 
is the more unfortunate because the Hght that child 
study throws upon the main question at issue renders 
these heated and speculative discussions quite superflu- 
ous. Effort and interest, habit and judgment, repetition 
and organization, all have a legitimate and indispensable 
place in the educative process. If certain methods have 
been emphasized at the expense of others, it is simply 
because, with his human propensity to hasty generaliza- 
tion, the enthusiastic educator has assumed that a factor 
which he finds to be efficient at one period of develop- 
ment is equally efficient at all periods of development. 
As far as the educative process is concerned, however, 
the child is an entirely different being at different levels 
of his growth. Each period of development is marked 
by pecuHar physical, mental, and moral characteristics 
that demand specific treatment. In short, "method" 
cannot be generahzed: what is food and drink at one 
time may become the veriest poison at a later stage, and 
what is thoroughly sufficient and adequate at this later 
stage may work the most disastrous results if applied to 
the earlier period. 

2. Throughout the United States, the eight grades that 
commonly comprise the elementary school are divided into 
three fairly distinct groups. Grades I and II form the 
"primary" division, grades III, IV, V, and VI the "inter- 
mediate" division, and grades VII and VIII the "gram- 



1 86 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

mar" division. While this grouping was doubtless quite 
unconscious at the outset, child study has shown that it 
corresponds very closely to the natural lines of cleavage 
separating distinct stages of mental and physical growth, 
and that the threefold division of the elementary school 
is really based upon fundamental differences in the 
capacities and needs of children at different ages. 

Neither mental nor physical development follows the 
law of uniformly accelerated motion. On the contrary, 
both are rhythmical, periods of growth being followed 
by longer or shorter periods of comparative quiescence, 
and these in turn by shorter or longer periods of growth. 
So different are the characteristics of both mind and 
body at successive crests of these developmental waves 
that some writers have termed the great changes in the 
child's life "metamorphoses," indicating an analogy with 
the changes exhibited in the development of many lower 
forms of Ufe and most spectacularly, perhaps, in the 
development of the typical insect through larval and 
pupal stages to complete maturity. In so far as the work 
of the school is concerned, this analogy is hardly over- 
drawn. The school Hfe of the child presents three dis- 
tinct phases: (i) the transition stage, from the age of 
six to the age of eight; (2) the formative stage, from 
eight to twelve; and (3) the adolescent stage, from twelve 
to eighteen. The stages are closely consistent with the 
primary, intermediate, and grammar-high school princi- 
ple of grading. It is true that the dividing lines separat- 



PERIODS OF DEVELOPMENT 1 87 

ing each stage from its predecessor and successor cannot 
be accurately drawn, but it is also true that there is, for 
each individual child, a change much more abrupt than 
the educator usually recognizes in his practice.^ 

3. (a) The Transition Stage. The years six to seven 
and seven to eight form a period of child development 
somewhat analogous to the later adolescent period, but 
possessing many individual features not yet well under- 
stood. Its physical characteristics are (i) relatively 
rapid growth,^ (2) an incoordination of the smaller mus- 
cles and the finer nerve connections,^ and (3) a relatively 
high susceptibility to disease and fatigue.* The rapid 
physical growth indicates that a large part of the poten- 
tial energy normally available for other purposes is now 
utilized in the building up of new tissues. The coordi- 
nation of the nerve connections and the smaller muscles 
points to a critical period of nervous disintegration. 
The susceptibility to disease and fatigue confirms this 

1 Cf. W. C. Ruediger : " Has the Dividing Line between Elementary 
and Secondary Education been drawn at the Proper Point?" in Element- 
ary School-teacher, 1905, vol. v, pp. 482-492. 

* This is clearly seen in the tables of growth compiled by various au- 
thorities. Cf., for example, Roberts's table as cited by H. H. Donaldson : 
Growth of the Brain, London, 1897, P- 5"? ^°<i Burk's table, compiled 
from over sixty-eight thousand cases investigated by Porter, Peckham, 
and others (F. Burk: "Growth of Children in Height and Weight," in 
American Journal of Psychology, 1898, vol. ix, pp. 253-326). 

8 Hall : " Ideal School," in Addresses and Proceedings, National Edu- 
cational Association, 1901, p. 478. 

* Hall: The Ideal School, p. 477; Adolescence, New York, 1904, vol. i, 
p. 251. 



155 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

inference and adds to the significance of this period a3 
one of a comparative paucity of excess energy. 

4. The leading mental characteristics of the transition 
stage are suggested by its name. Prior to the age of 
six, passive attention holds almost undisputed sway. 
Whatever the child does is done for immediate ends — 
to satisfy immediate desires. His activity is charac- 
terized by an interest in the process rather than in the 
product. Whatever he is doing absorbs his attention 
for the time being; the end that is to be gained does 
not trouble him. The transition period is really a "pass- 
ing over" of interest from means to end, from process 
to product, — an initial development from passive to 
active attention. 

But it must be understood that this transition is only 
initial even under the most fortunate conditions; and 
the fact that passive attention is still the order of the day 
is the key to a very important chapter in the pedagogy 
of this period. Although the child possesses the power 
of speech, he is not at this time, strictly speaking, a 
"rational animal." His thinking is still predominantly of 
the concrete order, and his judgments, in the main, are 
of the "practical" type. It is still far too early for con- 
ceptual thought and logical reasoning, since the condensa- 
tion of experience has not yet progressed to that point 
where symbols may effectively rid themselves of their 
attendant imagery. The word does not function as a 

^ Cf. ch. vi, above. 



PERIODS OF DEVELOPMENT I89 

focal representative of a concept, for the concept itself 
is still in a nascent stage; consequently, the word is 
associated definitely with a concrete thing or a concrete 
image. It is because the condensation of experience to 
the conceptual point is highly dependent upon active 
attention ^ that the child in the transition period is so 
largely unamenable to those educative influences that 
depend upon "reasoning" and organization. 

5. The moral characteristics of this stkge are likewise 
to be explained by the incapacity for active attention. 
If we think of morahty as the subordination of momen- 
tary impulse to a remote end, we must consider the child 
at this time of his Hfe as neither moral nor immoral but 
rather unmoral. Since he is largely incapable of inhibit- 
ing unsocial impulses with reference to an ideal, — for 
he lives in a world of reals, — he must sometimes be 
forced to this inhibition by the primitive incentives of 
pleasure and pain — using these terms in a strictly physi- 
cal sense. Gradually, as the abiHty to hold in mind 
the more remote and intangible ideas comes to be devel- 
oped, these primitive methods may give place to those 
of higher degree. The child will recognize that the 
unsocial impulse may profitably be sacrificed in order 
to gain a reward or avoid a punishment which his widen- 
ing experience now reveals to him. At a still later period, 
— probably not until the onset of adolescence, — the ab- 
stract ideals of honor, duty, and obedience, functioning 

^ See ch. ix, above. 



IQO THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

in conceptual judgments, may come to dominate his 
conduct. 

6. (b) The Formative Stage. The rapid rate of 
growth that characterizes the transition period is sharply 
contrasted with the relatively slow growth of the forma- 
tive period. A certain amount of energy is consequently 
set free for other purposes than the formation of new 
tissues. This is evidenced by the ceaseless activity which 
is so marked ariiong pre-adolescent children. Indeed, it 
is probably true that the child expends more energy in 
proportion to his weight during these years than at any 
other time of his life. Unlike the adult, however, — 
with whom he has many points in common, — the chan- 
nels through which this energy is distributed are not 
highly organized; hence its constant overflow as "excess." 
At about the age of eight, the brain practically completes 
its development^ as far as weight and size are concerned, 
and the changes that this organ subsequently undergoes 
are due to internal organization, — the knitting together 
of different sense areas, the ripening of the association 
centers, and the formation of functional connections be- 
tween neurones. Expressed in another way, this means 
that the years eight to twelve are the "habit-forming" 
period, for habit, on its physiological side, is the making 
permanent of pathways of nervous discharge. President 
Hall^ says of this period: "We are now educating the 

^ H. H. Donaldson: TAe Growth of the Brain, London, 1897, p. 104; 
Hall : Ideal School, p. 477. 2 Hall, op. cit., p. 478. 



PERIODS OF DEVELOPMENT I9I 

automatic bases of both mind and morals, and habits 
are never so easily formed and made stable. ... It is 
the time to break in the human colt, in some sense the 
wildest of all wild animals. If the piano or any other 
musical instrument is to be learned, this is the time for 
drill, especially on the scales and exercises. An instru- 
mentalist's technique is rarely good if the foundations 
are not laid at this stage." The same author also cites 
the well-known fact that pronunciation of foreign lan- 
guages is seldom perfect unless the adjustments are 
made automatic at this time, and Professor James,^ in 
his classic chapter on habit, emphasizes the necessity of 
early training in the httle niceties of dress and etiquette, 
if these acquirements are ever to count for much among 
one's fellows. 

In contrast to the susceptibility to fatigue and disease 
that marks the transition period, the years eight to twelve 
show a comparative immunity to both of these energy- 
exhausting forces. Some authorities,^ indeed, maintain 
that the child fatigues easily at this time, but all appear 
to agree that he recovfrs very rapidly from fatigue and 
that a reasonable amount of strain and effort is now 
quite without the disastrous results which overwork may 
easily produce in the preceding and in the following 
period. 

* W. James: Principles of Psychology, New York, 1890, p. 122. 

* For example, Siegert : Die Periodicitdt in der Entwickelung def 
Kindernatur, Leipzig, 1 89 1; cited by King, op. cit., p. 183. 



192 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

7. The mental phenomena that characterize the forma- 
tive period differ in degree rather than in kind from 
those of the transition stage. Under the most favorable 
conditions, the years six to eight can accompHsh but a 
partial transition from passive to active attention. In 
fact, the "strong stimulus" will never cease to soHcit 
passive attention, and throughout Hfe one is always sub- 
ject, in greater or less degree, to the temptations of the 
moment, the passion for change, the desire to do "some- 
thing else." But in the formative period, while passive 
attention is still dominant, the concentration and effort 
that active attention involves can be demanded with less 
fear of disastrous consequences. At the same time, the 
child's interests will center very largely in the objective 
rather than the subjective, and especially in objects that 
are animate and moving. 

According to Khne,^ the "runaway curve" reaches 
one of its high points between eight and ten. This 
means that the dislike for monotony and for "staying 
with" a task is especially strong at this time. Perhaps 
it is largely for this reason that the average pupil finds 
the intermediate grades so irksome. Here, more than 
anywhere else, the teacher has constantly to battle against 
nature. On every hand, the stimuh that soHcit passive 
attention must be strenuously, often forcibly, resisted. 

The concrete imagery that characterizes the child's 

1 L. W. Kline : " Truancy as related to the Migratory Instinct," in 
Pedagogical- Seminary, 1898, vol. v, pp. 381-420. 



PERIODS OF DEVELOPMENT 193 

mental processes in the transition period continues to 
dominate the early years of the formative period. Judg- 
ment is still largely limited to the practical type, experi- 
ences being revived with little attempt at condensation. 
Especially is it to be noted that any tendency toward 
symboHsm is entirely lacking.^ On the other hand, the 
capacity for retaining concrete sense impressions is never 
so strong as during this period ; the mind seems to grasp 
and hold everything that reaches the focus of attention. 
Even words that are comparatively empty of meaning can 
be readily impressed; as President HalP says, "Verbal 
memory is at its very best and should be trained far more 
than it is." In short, in no other stage of childhood is 
it so thoroughly true that the mind is "wax to receive 
and marble to retain." 

In the early part of the formative period, the capacity 
for logical reasoning is still nascent,^ although it would 
seem to make its presence felt in a slight degree at about 
the age of nine.* Its subsequent growth is comparatively 
slow until the onset of adolescence.^ 

1 E. L. Thorndike : Notes on Child Study, New York, 1903, p. 80. 

2 Hall, op. cii., p. 478. 

•Mary Sheldon Barnes: "The Historic Sense among Children," in 
Studies in Education, 1896, vol. i, p. 90. 

* " At the age of nine and a half or ten the number of those giving 
reasons why they wish to follow such and such vocations also rapidly 
increases." — King, op. cit., p. 187. 

6 Professor Thorndike, in denying any specific " reasoning " capacity in 
adolescents over and above that possessed by young children, evidently 
fails to discriminate between practical and conceptual judgment. Notes on 
Child Study, pp. 98-104. 



194 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

8. Morally, the formative period is best described by 
its name. Because of the sUght capacity for logical 
reasoning, the more recondite moral judgments are not 
to be reUed upon. The social ideals which play so im- 
portant a part in such judgments are likewise a product 
of a later growth, — being, in a measure, acquired in- 
terests based upon the sexual instincts that arise with 
adolescence. From the standpoint of moral culture, the 
years eight to twelve are preeminently the time for de- 
veloping specific moral habits, — habits of cleanliness, 
industry, honesty, and obedience, — with very little 
attempt at "moral suasion," but rather a chief depend- 
ence upon arbitrary authority. This statement may 
smack of barbarism and suggest an unwelcome return 
to the severe moral culture of the past. But if, in at- 
tempting to civilize the child, we assume that he is civil- 
ized at the outset; if, in attempting to develop higher 
motives, we assume that these motives already exist and 
operate effectively; then we not only commit a logical 
fallacy, but experience goes to prove that we make a very 
serious practical blunder. If the child is to be treated 
by barbaric methods, it is because, from an ethnic stand- 
point, he has barbaric characteristics. 

President Hall's^ interpretation of the transition and forma- 
tive periods is particularly illuminating. He believes that the 
peculiar physical and mental characteristics of the years six 
to eight are the outcroppings in the individual of traits that 

1 G. S. Hall: Adolescence, New York, 1904, Preface, vol. \, pp. i-x ff. 



PERIODS OF DEVELOPMENT I95 

marked the period of puberty at some remote stage of race 
history. As infancy has been prolonged, sexual maturity has 
been retarded, and what was at one time the period of puberty 
becomes now only a " nodal " point of development, still retain- 
ing, however, the adolescent characteristics in miniature. In- 
deed there is much to confirm this conclusion in the analogies 
between the transition stage and the much later adolescence — 
" as if, amid the increasing instabilities of health at the age of 
about six, we could still detect the ripple marks of an ancient 
pubic beach now lifted high above the tides of a receding 
shore-line as human infancy has been prolonged." 

In an analogous fashion. Dr. Hall would consider the forma- 
tive period as representing a remote period of maturity, " when, 
in a warm climate, the young of our species once shifted for 
themselves independently of further parental aid." The char- 
acteristics of this period were presumably predatory and pre- 
social, and these we find cropping out in the child from eight 
to twelve. " The elements of personality are few, but are well 
organized and on a simple, effective plan. . . . Thus the boy 
is father of the man in a new sense, in that his qualities are 
indefinitely older, and existed, well compacted, untold ages 
before the distinctly human attributes were developed." 

Whatever truth there may be in this hypothesis, it still 
remains as the most illuminating and satisfying explanation of 
the pre-adolescent child that has yet been offered. 

9. (c) The Adolescent Stage. This important period 
has been so thoroughly and adequately treated in recent 
literature ^ that little need be said of its characteristics 
in this place. Physically, it is marked by a very rapid 
growth, — the rate of growth being sometimes (that 
is, in individual cases) almost doubled within a single 

^ Especially in President Hall's monumental work. 



196 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

year, while the normal percentum increase is from one 
third to one half. The usiial accompaniments of rapid 
growth, noted in connection with the transition period, 
are again in evidence. There is a diminution of excess 
energy — sometimes even a positive lack of sufficient 
energy, resulting in anaemia, lassitude, and Weltschmerz. 
There is a recurrence of the nervous disintegration char- 
acteristic of the former period, and this finds an ex- 
pression in awkward movements, uncertain adjustments, 
and a general incoordination sometimes bordering upon 
chorea. While the mortality average is much lower 
than during the preceding years, owing to a diminished 
susceptibihty to the diseases pecuUar to childhood, there 
is, on the other hand, an increased susceptibility to adult 
diseases; it would also appear that the germs of many 
diseases that raise the mortality average later in life 
are apt to be implanted at this time.^ But the most 
important physical changes are, of course, involved in 
the development of the primary and secondary sex func- 
tions. These ultimately furnish the key to the explana- 
tion of the mental and moral characteristics. 

10. Mentally, then, as well as physically, adolescence 
is a "new birth." The intellectual changes — in them- 
selves profound — are at first quite overshadowed by 
the emotional instability. "Fear, anger, love, pity, 
jealousy, emulation, ambition, and sympathy are either 
now born or springing into their most intense hfe." ^ 

1 Hall : Adolescence, ch. iv. ' Hall : Ideal School, p. 483. 



PERIODS OF DEVELOPMENT I97 

All these are what might be termed "social" instincts. 
They imply an innate widening out of the child's hori- 
zon. Heretofore he has been largely self- centered, 
in the narrowest sense of this narrow term. The new 
instincts have no less a selfish reference, but they also 
include a "consciousness of kind" that has hitherto 
been lacking. 

This sudden coming into function of a host of new 
instincts accentuates the dominance of impulse and thus 
in a measure causes a reversion to passive attention. 
Hall ^ places the apex of the runaway curve at the begin- r- 
ning of this period. All teachers of adolescent children 
would doubtless agree that the child entering upon this 
stage reacts very strongly against the drill and repeti- 
tion to which he has become inured during the pre- 
ceding period, and it is certainly true that the factor of 
interest will bring far better results at this time than the 
factor of forced efifort. 

The interests that can be appealed to, however, are 
on a much higher plane than the primitive interests 
of early childhood. The dominant instincts are innate, 
it is true, but they operate upon a superstructure built 
up during the preceding period. Indeed, the drill and 
discipHne of the formative years may be looked upon 
as a necessary preparation, — as a culture of the soil 
in which the social instincts are to be planted; and the 
pedagogy of adolescence will be easy or difiicult accord- 

1 Hall : Ideal School, p. 484; Adolescence, vol. i, p, 348. 



198 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

ing as the work of the preceding period has been done 
well or ill. Adolescence brings with it a new outlook 
from a higher vantage point, but the acquisitions already 
made must form the field which this new outlook faces. 
Hence the dominant interests are, in a sense, acquired 
interests They are relatively permanent and abiding, 
relatively deep and penetrating. The idle curiosity of 
childhood becomes a deeply seated love of knowing 
for the sake of knowing; the blind and purposeless 
imitation of infancy becomes critical of ends, and from 
the mere copyist is developed the virtuoso; emulation 
is more highly organized, sees farther into the future, 
and forms the basis of ambition; the primitive "puzzle" 
instinct, which culminates in the formative period,^ 
now merges into a deeper interest that seeks to discover 
causes and to trace out hidden relations ; and the instinct 
of property which, as early as four or five, found a primi- 
tive expression in aimless and trivial collections^ now 
takes a rational and human form. All or almost all 
the instincts that dominate early childhood are inten- 
sified during adolescence, but, owing to the culture of 
the preceding years and to the modifying influence of 
the new "consciousness of kind," they seek a far dif- 
ferent expression. 
All these factors operate to heighten the capacity 

^ E. H. Lindley : "A Study of Puzzles," Pedagogical Seminary, vol. vii, 
pp. 431-443- 

2 C. F. Burk : " The Collecting Instinct," Pedagogical Seminary, vol. vii, 
p. 179. 



PERIODS OF DEVELOPMENT 1 99 

for logical reasoning. The new interest in causes and 
hidden relations places a premium upon the concep- 
tual rather than the practical judgment. The broader 
outlook renders condensation and some form of sym- 
bolism an absolute necessity. There is a transition 
almost from one extreme to the other ; where before the 
mental processes were intrinsically concrete in their 
meaning, where the detailed and particular were wholly 
dominant, there is now a tendency, sometimes almost 
a yearning, toward the most profound abstractions. 
The broad conceptions of science, the comprehensive 
movements of history, the critical interpretations of 
literature, are now thoroughly in place. "Neither you 
nor I, however specialized our knowledge, know any- 
thing really worth knowing the substance of which can- 
not be taught now if we have pedagogical tact." ^ 

II. This truth is even more forcibly impressed when 
we turn to the moral characteristics of adolescence. 
The profound emotional changes combine with this 
broadening of the intellectual horizon to make this period 
the great breeding-ground of ideals, and it is the inevi- 
table clash and conflict of these ideals that justify the 
term "storm and stress period," so frequently appHed 
to later adolescence. The profound religious awak- 
ening on the one hand and the stronger tendencies 
toward criminality on the other mark the extremes in 
the post-pubertal development of the sentiments. Con- 

1 Hall : Idea/ School, p. 485. 



20O THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

duct is organized on a much more elaborate plan. 
Motive, which has hitherto been determined by the 
primitive standards of immediate pleasure and pain, now 
takes its cue from desires that look to realization far 
in the future. 

From these facts, it follows that the methods of moral 
culture must be transformed almost in a day. Just 
as in mental training "the drill and mechanism of the 
previous period must be relaxed," so, in moral training, 
the arbitrary and authoritative rulings that have hith- 
erto been the mainstay must now give place to reason. 
All forms of punishment that appeal to the fear of physi- 
cal pain are beyond doubt always more productive of 
evil than of good in the normal adolescent, no matter 
how serious his offense. If he cannot see in what man- 
ner the inhibitions and repressions that are demanded 
of him will conduce to his ultimate well-being, it will 
be next to impossible to compel these restrictions through 
physical force and at the same time fail to work an irre- 
mediable injury. He feels that he has left such methods 
behind him in the stage from which he has just emerged, 
and it is pedagogical wisdom to respect this conviction, 
even at some sacrifice. 

12. Summary. The foregoing analysis must, of course, 
be subject to whatever revisions future investigations 
in the field of child study may dictate; but in the light 
that is now available it would seem to indicate in no 
uncertain terms that the child at different levels of his 



PERIODS OF DEVELOPMENT 20I 

growth has different needs and capacities that must 
be catered to in different ways. It consequently follows 
that the factors conditioning the recall of experience 
cannot be intelligently apphed to the educative process 
without taking into account these varying character- 
istics. The following conclusions attempt to formu- 
late such an interpretation; if they seem to assume a 
too rigid demarcation between periods, it is because the 
writer is convinced that this type of possible error is 
a far safer risk in the present connection than its oppo- 
site would be. 

(i) The factor that operates most effectively in the 
transition period is vivid portrayal dealing almost ex- 
clusively with concrete experiences. Repetition is fre- 
quently in order, provided that it involves a minimum 
of strain and fatigue. Logical reasoning is thoroughly 
out of place, and symbols must not be used apart from 
a direct connection with the concrete experiences for 
which they stand. Moral culture is of a strictly pleas- 
ure-pain type with pleasure predominating. 

(2) In the formative period, repetition is the watch- 
word, but it should be strongly supplemented by vivid 
portrayal and, in the later stages, by the simpler opera- 
tions of logical reasoning. Symbols should still be 
closely associated with the concrete, but there is some 
place for the operation of verbal memory through repe- 
tition, even if the underlying conceptions have not been 
thoroughly traced out. The more specific moral habits 



202 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

should be thoroughly automatized; their advantage 
to the child's immediate well-being should be clearly 
shown if possible; in case this is out of the question, 
moral rules should be arbitrarily enforced until adjust- 
ments that harmonize with them have become matters 
of habit. 

(3) Organization or logical reasoning holds undis- 
puted sway in the adolescent stage. There is, however, 
abundant opportunity for vivid portrayal provided that 
it cooperates with organization; and some slight place 
for repetition provided that the need for it originates 
in the child himself, and provided that it operates upon 
processes already organized. Moral culture is now 
entirely of the rational type, and future rather than 
immediate well-being can be safely appealed to. Ex- 
alted ideals can and must be developed, with which 
immoral action will be clearly seen to be inconsistent; 
and moral instruction, before largely impersonal, must 
now be strongly tinged with inspiration. 



PART V. THE SELECTION OF EX- 
PERIENCES FOR EDUCATIONAL 
PURPOSES: EDUCATIONAL 
VALUES 

CHAPTER XIII 

Formal versus Intrinsic Values of Experience: 
THE Doctrine of Formal Discipline 

I. Until very recently, the experiences that the school 
attempted to impart were divided into two classes: (i) 
those which were or might be intrinsically valuable 
to the individual in facing future situations, and (2) 
those which were not intrinsically valuable but which 
were believed to develop certain general tendencies 
to reaction that would insure a definite response to situa- 
tions of different types. In a sense, this was a very broad 
extension of the differences, already noted, between habit 
and judgment. Certain subjects of the curriculum, 
if properly pursued, were believed to develop what might 
be termed "generaUzed" habits. A simple habit is 
a specific response to a specific stimulus; a general- 
ized habit would be a specific response common to a 
number of different stimuli. 

For example, a pupil may acquire the specific habit of pro- 
ducing neat papers in arithmetic. The doctrine of formal 

203 



204 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

discipline assumes that if this habit is once thoroughly estab- 
lished, it will function equally well in connection with language 
and drawing ; that, functioning successfully here, it cannot fail 
to insure neatness of person and attire ; and that the habit of 
neatness thus ingrained upon the pupil will surely be carried 
over into mature years. 

Again, it has been assumed that the study of mathematics 
trains general habits of reasoning, that nature study trains gen- 
eral habits of observation, and that all branches, properly pur- 
sued, train general habits of industry. Analogously, it was 
assumed that the capacity for memory was capable of improve- 
ment through formal discipHne, and the study of the ancient 
languages has frequently been justified on this ground. 

The extent to which this doctrine has been applied 
is plainly apparent from the most cursory study of the 
traditional curricula of the higher schools. While many 
of the facts and principles embodied in these curricula 
can probably be otherwise justified, it still remains true 
that they have held their place almost solely upon this 
supposition; and even in the elementary school, the 
instruction in grammar and to some extent the instruc- 
tion in arithmetic have been governed by the supposed 
operation of this factor. 

2. It is clear that, so far as a "generalized habit" 
is concerned, the term is a psychological absurdity. 
The very essence of a habit is the specific character 
of its response. An habitual adjustment is a definite 
reaction called forth by some specific stimulus or com- 
bination of stimuli, and if habit were capable of being 
generalized, the utility of judgment or conscious adjust- 



DOCTRINE OF FORMAL DISCIPLINE 20$ 

ment would be greatly diminished. But while this 
theoretical evidence is unquestionably sound, it has not 
operated to prove the theory of formal discipline to be a 
practical fallacy; largely, perhaps, because actual expe- 
rience seems to demonstrate that, notwithstanding the 
theoretical absurdity of the statement, habits are gen- 
erahzed. Cases are cited in the literature, and can easily 
be multipUed from individual experience, which indi- 
cate that a thorough training in the mathematical dis- 
ciphnes has given one an increased capacity for efficient 
reasoning in other Unes, and that insistence upon neat 
work has had a beneficial effect upon the neatness of 
person and dress. In fact, so conclusive is this empiri- 
cal evidence that the theoretical impossibility carries 
but little weight. 

3. This condition amounts almost to a paradox, and 
indicates the need of careful experiments based upon 
accurate methods. Such experiments have been con- 
ducted at Columbia University within the past few years 
with very suggestive results. The general problem was 
the influence that special forms of training may have 
upon related functions. 

"Individuals practiced estimating the areas of rectangles 
from 10 to 100 sq. cm. in size until a very marked improve- 
ment was attained. The improvement in accuracy for areas of 
the same size but of different shapes, due to this training, was 
only 44 per cent as great as that for areas of the same shape 
and size. For areas of the same shape but from 140-300 sq. 
cm. in size the improvement was 30 per cent as great. For 



206 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

areas of different shape and from 140-400 sq. crti. in size the 
improvement was 52 per cent as great. 

"Training in estimating weights of from 40-100 g. resulted 
in only 39 per cent as much improvement in estimating weights 
from 120 to 1800 g. Training in estimating lines from ,5 to 
1.5 in. long (resulting in a reduction of error to 25 per cent of 
the initial amount) resulted in no improvement in the esti- 
mation of lines 6-12 in. long. 

" Training in perceiving words containing e and s gave a cer- 
tain amount of improvement in speed and accuracy in that 
special ability. In the ability to perceive words containing / 
and /, s and /, c and a, e and r, a and n, I and o, misspelled 
words and As, there was an improvement in speed of only 
39 per cent as much as in the ability specially trained, and in 
accuracy of only 25 per cent as much. Training in perceiving 
English verbs gave a reduction in time of nearly 2 1 per cent 
and in omissions of 70 per cent. The ability to perceive other 
parts of speech showed a reduction in time of 3 per cent, but 
an increase on omissions of over 100 per cent."^ 

Professors E. L. Thorndike and R. S. Woodworth, 
who conducted these experiments, reached the following 
conclusions : * — 

"Improvement, in any single mental function, need 
not improve the ability in functions commonly called 
by the same name. It may injure it. 

"Improvement in any single mental function rarely 
brings about equal improvement in any other function, 

^ E. L. Thorndike: Educational Psychology, New York, 1903, p. 90; 
for details, see Thorndike and Woodworth : " The Influence of Improve- 
ment in One Mental Function upon the Efficiency of Other Functions," 
in Psychological Review, 1901, vol. viii, pp. 247-261, 384-395. 

■^ Thorndike, op. cit., p. 91. 



DOCTRINE OF FORMAL DISCIPLINE 20/ 

no matter how similar, for the working of every mental 
function group is conditioned by the nature of the data 
in each particular case. 

"The very sHght amount of variation in the nature 
of the data necessary to affect the efficiency of a function 
group makes it fair to infer that no change in the data, 
however slight, is without effect on the function. The 
loss in the eflBciency of a function trained with certain 
data, as we pass to data more and more unlike the first, 
makes it fair to infer that there is always a point where 
loss is complete, a point -beyond which the influence 
of the training has not extended. The rapidity of this 
loss — that is, its amount in the case of data very similar 
to the data on which the function was trained — makes 
it fair to infer that this point is nearer than has been 
supposed. 

"The general consideration of the cases of retention, 
or of loss of practice effect, seems to make it unlikely 
that spread of practice occurs only where identical ele- 
ments are concerned in the influencing and influenced 
function." 

Dr. Naomi Norsworthy -^ carried on similar experi- 
ments with school children, using similar methods and 
reaching the following conclusions : — 

"It seems probable that certain functions which are 
of importance in school work, such as quickness in arith- 

1 N. Norsworthy : " Formal Training," in New York Teachers' Mono- 
graphs, 1902, vol. iv, pp. 96-99. 



208 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

metic, accuracy in spelling, attention to forms, etc., 
are highly specialized and not secondary results of some 
general function. That just as there is no such thing 
as general memory, so there is no such thing as general 
quickness or accuracy or observation. . . . Accuracy 
in spelling is independent of accuracy in multiplication, 
and quickness in arithmetic is not found with quickness 
in marking misspelled words ; abihty to pick out the word 
'boy' on a printed page is no guarantee that the child 
will be able to pick out a geometrical form with as great 
ease and accuracy." 

At the Montana State Normal College careful experi- 
ments ^ were undertaken to determine whether the habit 
of producing neat papers in arithmetic will function 
with reference to neat written work in other studies; 
the tests were confined to the intermediate grades. The 
results are almost startUng in their failure to show the 
slightest improvement in language and spelling papers, 
although the improvement in the arithmetic papers was 
noticeable from the very first. 

4. The very decided trend of all this experimental 
evidence seems to indicate that the theoretical impossi- 
bihty of a generalized habit — either "marginal" or sub- 
conscious — is thoroughly subst intiated by accurate 
tests. There still remains, however, the widespread 

^ These experiments were planned by Dr. Carrie R. Squire and con- 
ducted by Margaret Ross, Lilian Lambrecbt, and Frances Chase, students 
in the college. 



DOCTRINE OF FORMAL DISCIPLINE 2O9 

notion that formal training is generalized, and whatever 
cases may be adduced stand against the evidence from 
experiment. Professor Thorndike ^ disposes of such 
cases in three ways: (i) where specific training is thought 
to spread out and affect other functions, it may simply 
mean that the individual in whom this tendency seems 
to be evinced is really inherently more capable than 
the average; therefore, if he shows particular aptitudes 
for the study of Latin, he may later excel in Greek, not 
because the pursuit of Latin has necessarily improved 
the functions that operate in the study of Greek, but 
because the individual is "bound" to excel in anything. 

(2) Certain effects commonly attributed to discipUne 
are really due to "mere inner growth and maturity." 

(3) Educators tend to judge all children on the basis 
of their own childhood, — a fallacious procedure, because 
educators "are Hkely to be gifted men who could as boys 
and girls readily acquire and apply general ideas and 
habits." 

Professor O'Shea,^ whose discussion of this matter 
is especially clarifying, would ascribe the seeming " spread " 
of special training to the fact that many Unes of activity, 
differing in several characteristics, may yet have some 
characteristics in common. If such is the case, training 
in one may promote efficiency in the others. "The 
geometrical method is incorporated, as it were, in the 

* Thorndike, op, cit., p. 93. 

* M. V. O'Shea: Education as Adjustment, pp. 27 1 ft 



2IO THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

more involved method of physics, and it would seem 
most economical to have the student famihar with the 
method of geometry before he undertakes the study of 
physics. So, too, the method gained in the observa- 
tion of plant life will be of assistance in observing human 
hfe." 

All these explanations, however, seem to leave some- 
thing unaccounted for. What this something is, from 
the writer's standpoint, may appear in the following 
cases. 

The writer believes that he has acquired a passable habit of 
industry in connection with his school work. He is fairly regu- 
lar in his hours of rising and retiring ; he goes to his class room 
and laboratory at stated periods, and accomplishes a fairly 
uniform allotment of work each day. This routine goes on 
day after day throughout the school year. Of course the daily 
tasks present some degree of individuality; new situations 
will arise which must be met and mastered. But, in general, 
the day's work is reduced to the plane of habit. The " work 
attitude " is assumed at a definite time and dropped at a defi- 
nite time. It forms, as it were, a large ring of habit, within 
which are smaller rings, and within these and across them are 
the dots and chains of focalized effort. 

But outside these rings of habit, within which the day's 
work is accomplished, persistent effort is distasteful and 
unsatisfactory. If the writer attempts to " carry over " his 
habit of industry fi-om the class room to the wood pile, nature 
rebels. His tendency at such times, he frankly confesses, is to 
" loaf" and temporize. The summer months are spent upon a 
farm. Here it is to his advantage — hygienic and otherwise — 
to take a serious part in the farm work ; yet his first tendency 
is antagonistic to industry. He does not crave inaction, but he 



DOCTRINE OF FORMAL DISCIPLINE 211 

dislikes the persistent effort that one identifies with work as dis- 
tinguished from the temporary and ever changing activity which, 
however strenuous it may be while it lasts, is still closely akin 
to play. The first day may go off very well, for it is a change 
and presents a certain element of novelty ; but for several days 
afterward industry is a constant battle against nature. In 
the course of time, however, the farm work becomes as much 
a matter of course as the school work has previously been. 
That is, a new habit of industry has been acquired through a 
period — longer or shorter — of strenuous , conscious effort. 

It seems perfectly clear that, in this case at least, the 
habit of industry — the ability to sustain a Hne of con- 
tinuous effort with a minimum of conscious "prodding" 
to a fairly remote end — is not carried over from school 
life to farm life. And yet something is carried over. 
The formation of the new habit of work is undoubtedly 
more economical of time and energy than it would be 
had not a habit of work already been developed in another 
field. 

Again, the writer is convinced that students who come into 
his classes in psychology after completing thorough courses in 
the higher mathematics do far better work than those who 
have not had this "training." Something has been carried 
over from one study to the other. It is certainly not the habit 
of study, nor are the points that mathematics and psychology 
have in common sufficient to account for this difference. 

The paradox reaches its climax in the case of habits 
of neatness. Here the experiments indubitably vahdate 
the general law that habit is specific. General experi- 
ence seems to confirm this experimental verdict on one 



212 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

hand and to deny it on another. The writer has a friend 
who is scrupulously neat in his personal attire and yet 
whose desk and study are samples of conspicuous con- 
fusion. He has another friend who is neat almost to 
the point of femininity in the details of his work and 
yet careless to the point of slovenliness in his attire. 
So far the specific character of cleanly adjustments 
seems to be confirmed. But he can, at the same time, 
count a dozen among his acquaintances who are neat 
in all departments of life and a few, at least, who are 
slovenly in everything that they are concerned with. 
Here it seems at first sight that the habit is generalized. 

And yet it is these last exceptions that really prove 
the rule. If it were the tendency of habit to become 
generalized, neat adjustments in one activity would mean 
neat adjustments in all activities in all individuals. That 
it does hold with some individuals, but not with all, 
is sufficient to prove that the habit, as such, is not gen- 
eralized. But that there is some link that joins all spe- 
cific habits of neatness is perfectly apparent to any one 
who may have a particularly "tidy" acquaintance. 

5. What, then, is the connecting link between habits 
of different species and the same genus? The distinc- 
tion already noted between habit and judgment suggests 
that, just as the latter may initiate the former, so judg- 
ment may connect and establish a functional relation 
between two specific habits. In other words, what I 
carry over from my school work to my farm work is 



DOCTRINE OF FORMAL DISCIPLINE 213 

not a generalized hahit of work, but a generalized ideal 
of work. It is something that functions in the focus 
of consciousness and hence cannot be identified with 
habit, which always functions either marginally or sub- 
consciously. This ideal furnishes a motive and this mo- 
tive holds me to conscious, persistent effort until the new 
habit has become effective, until the distracting influences 
no longer solicit passive attention. // / had acquired a 
specific habit of work in one field without at the same 
time acquiring a general ideal of work, my acquisition of 
a specific habit in another field would probably not be mate- 
rially benefited. 

Similarly with the habits of mental application or 
study. The students who come to psychology from the 
mathematical courses have no generalized habit of study, 
but they have an ideal of study. They have penetrated 
pretty deeply into abstract problems and, along with 
their drudgery, they have experienced some delight of 
achievement, some of the pleasure that attaches to suc- 
cessful effort. It may be that mathematics has given 
them nothing but this, but this is enough to hold them 
to their new task until a new and specific habit of psy- 
chological study has been estabUshed. 

Similarly, too, with the habit of neatness. Those 
who appear to carry this habit over from one department 
of life to another really carry over the ideal of neatness. 
This explains why some persons are neat in their work 
and untidy in their dress, while others are neat in their 



214 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

dress and untidy in their work, and still others are neat 
in both work and dress. An ideal is an individual 
factor. One may be neat in one's work from other 
motives than a general ideal of neatness. Neat work 
may be an essential to success; neat work may mean 
economy of effort; neat work may mean a thousand 
other things that have no relation whatsoever to neatness 
of dress and person. 

The word "discipline" implies a mechanizing process 
— the formation of an habitual reaction that shall func- 
tion with little or no effort of attention after it has once 
been firmly established. But, in its initial stages, the 
process of habit building must always be conscious — 
focal. There must necessarily be effort, — struggle to 
hold one's self to the Hne, — struggle to resist the normal 
desire for change. Gradually this struggle becomes 
less and less strenuous until fin9,lly the process is com- 
pletely mechanized. This mechanizing, however, must 
be thoroughly specific in the narrowest sense of this 
term ; and if the line of work is changed ever so slightly, 
a new habit must be formed. This means a refocali- 
zation, a new period of conscious effort, and it is at this 
point that what we have termed the ideal has its sphere 
of activity. 

6. The factor of ideals may operate with equal effi- 
ciency in connecting specific functions other than habits. 
The Columbia experiments seem to indicate that "rea- 
soning" processes are as thoroughly individual as are 



DOCTRINE OF FORMAL DISCIPLINE 21$ 

habits, and it is seriously to be doubted whether the dis- 
cipline of geometry or any other form of the higher mathe- 
matics will enable the student to "reason" any better 
in biology or political economy. Indeed, the very fact 
that specialists in mathematics are not infrequently 
handicapped in making effective judgments in other 
fields would speak strongly against a general capacity 
for reasoning.-^ Nevertheless, a training in mathematics 
may well give a student ideals of exact methods of pro- 
cedure in getting at truth, and these ideals can be gener- 
alized to any extent that one desires. It is needless to 
say, however, that mathematics can be taught without 
impressing such ideals, and it is equally easy to see that 
a high degree of mathematical proficiency does not 
necessarily mean that such ideals function. 

The pursuit of natural science may similarly develop 
ideals of observation. This does not mean that the stu- 
dent who has pursued natural science will thereby have 
gained a tendency to make acute observations in fields 
other than those in which he is proficient; he will be 
no more Ukely to note a two-bit piece lying between the 
cracks of the sidewalk than his unscientific brother; 
and it is certainly to be hoped that he will not have ac- 
quired an abnormal disposition to see the mote that may 
lie in this brother's eye. But if he passes from the study 
of biology to the study of psychology, he may easily make 
some such judgment as this: "Careful observation is 

1 Cf. O'Shea, op. cit, p. 266. 



2l6 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

the basal principle of truth getting in biology; it may 
work equally well in psychology; therefore I shall ac- 
quire a new habit of psychological observation." 

7. The important lesson for education in connection 
with ideals is apparent from these examples. The doc- 
trine of formal discipline assumed that the mastery of 
a certain subject gave one an increased power to master 
other subjects. It is clear that there is a certain amount 
of truth in this statement, provided that we understand 
very clearly that this increased power must always take 
the form of an ideal that will function as judgment and 
not of an unconscious predisposition that will function as 
habit. In other words, unless the ideal has been devel- 
oped consciously, there can he no certainty that the power 
will he increased, no matter how intrinsically well the 
suhject may have been mastered. 

The factor of ideals does not appear in the experi- 
ments noted above simply because the experiments 
demanded its ehmination. The problem under inves- 
tigation was whether a habit can be carried over as habit, 
not refocalized and made to function as idea or ideal. 
In the tests of neatness, for example, it was distinctly 
understood that the pupils should have no general in- 
struction on neatness as an ideal. Neatness was exacted 
of them in arithmetic, and the matter ended there. 

The passing of the doctrine of formal discipline cer- 
tainly does not detract in the least from the serious 
responsibility of the school to develop specific habits of 



DOCTRINE OF FORMAL DISCIPLINE 21/ 

cleanliness, industry, and mental application in the par- 
ticular and specific line of work with which it is con- 
cerned; for, if the carrying over of a good habit from 
one occupation to another demands a process of judg- 
ment dependent upon an ideal, surely this ideal can be 
strengthened and sustained only by a cultivation of the 
specific habits that form its concrete expression. It 
would be futile to instill ideals of cleanliness, industry, 
and honor in the schools, expecting them to be applied 
in later life, if, at the same time, the antitheses of these 
ideals — filth and sloth and vice — were tolerated in 
the daily experience of the pupils. 



y 



CHAPTER XIV 

The Development of Ideals the Chief Work of 
Education 

1. If the conclusions of the last chapter are valid, it 
follows that there is an educative value of experiences 
over and above their intrinsic worth as facts or items 
of knowledge. The experiences that the individual 
acquires may carry with them ideals that may later serve 
to modify adjustment even more fundamentally and effi- 
ciently than the knowledge itself. Our definition of 
education must be extended to include ideals as an im- 
portant type of condensed experiences not always recog- 
nized in the educative process. 

2. This conception is especially important in the light 
of existing tendencies. The passing of the dogma of 
formal discipline has greatly enhanced intrinsic values. 
Where hitherto subject-matter has often been justified 
only by its supposed disciplinary effect, such subject- 
matter is now either justified on other grounds or elimi- 
nated altogether. This has been a healthful reaction, 
for the pendulum undoubtedly had swung too far to the 
other extreme. But, as the last chapter indicated, the 
basal notion of discipHnary values had too large a meas- 
ure of worth to be cast entirely aside. Indeed, it is 

218 



DEVELOPMENT OF IDEALS 219 

hardly too much to say that, if one must choose between 
the two, the doctrine of formal discipline, with all its 
fallacies, would be a far safer risk than the doctrine of 
exclusively intrinsic values. The mere subject-matter of 
knowledge might be hkened to the letter that killeth; 
the ideal, to the spirit that maketh alive. 

It would probably be difficult to overestimate the 
importance of ideals in civilized life. They are the 
dominant forces in all the great movements of history. 
Races and nations are distinguished from one another 
by their ideals far more than by their inherent physical 
and mental pecuUarities. In spite of the elements that 
foreign nations have contributed and are contributing 
to the American people, our nation is distinctly individual 
because it has its individual ideals. The German, the 
Celtic, the Slavic, and the Romance ingredients become 
indistinguishable after two generations because their 
distinctive race or national ideals have been dropped 
and the American ideal has been assimilated. That the 
Jewish people still maintain their racial characteristics 
is due to the fact that their great ethnic ideals are cher- 
ished from generation to generation with a tenacity that 
no other people of history have even approximated. 

Nor is the operation of ideals less evident in individual 
development. The impetus which family pride may 
give to individual effort is illustrated in such strains as 
the Adamses of Massachusetts, the Breckenridges of 
Kentucky, the Harrisons of Indiana, and others too 



220 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

numerous to mention. The very fact that one's for- 
bears have accomplished things and attained to high 
places among their fellows may form a most effective 
spur to the present generation. Certainly not all great 
men's sons are great, but this fact only lends confirma- 
tion to our hypothesis, for the ideal may or may not be 
developed; while, if the tendency to preeminence were 
transmitted physically there should be no such exceptions 
as we now find. 

The esprit de corps that is expressed in loyalty to one's 
school or college is another type of ideal that functions 
effectively in spurring one on to greater effort. The 
college or the university that can imbue its students 
with such loyalty is doing much more to equip them for 
the battle of life than the institution that simply instructs, 
no matter how faithfully that instruction may be im- 
parted. It is largely for this reason that the personal 
influence of teacher and professor counts for far more in 
the long run than the mere mechanical advantages of 
libraries and laboratories and work shops. 

3. It is safe to assert, then, that the main aim in edu- 
cation is to instill ideals that will function as judgments, 
and that, in one sense at least, the subject-matter of 
instruction must be totally subservient to this aim. The 
classical education of the past undoubtedly had little 
worth in so far as the intrinsic value of its subject-mat- 
ter was concerned; but it had immeasurable worth in 
so far as the ideals that it instilled were concerned. If 



DEVELOPMENT OF IDEALS 221 

the new education fails to develop equally effective ideals, 
its mission will result in a net loss, no matter how thor- 
oughly it may succeed from its own intrinsic standpoint. 
Mark Hopkins on one end of a log and ambitious youth 
on the other end are no less the type of a true college 
to-day than in the boyhood of Garfield. 

4. But can the formal and the intrinsic values be sat- 
isfactorily adjusted? Is it possible to place the main 
emphasis upon ideals and yet so impress the more spe- 
cific judgments that they will function effectively? 

The results in typical cases seem to justify an affirm- 
ative answer to these questions. Intrinsically useful 
materials may just as successfully form the basis for 
the development of ideals as intrinsically useless mate- 
rials. That the student of engineering or agriculture 
or commerce does not always acquire the ideals that 
mark the cultured and refined "gentleman" is not the 
fault of the subject-matter, but rather of the method. 
The old classical curriculum did not always produce 
the desired result; in both cases the subject-matter is 
always subservient to the spirit in which it is imparted. 
Chemistry and physics and commercial geography can 
be taught in a mechanical fashion, but so can Greek 
and Latin and history. In both cases, the result, in 
so far as ideals go, is precisely the same, but the former 
is the less serious of the two evils, for at any rate useful 
knowledge has been acquired, while in the latter case the 
entire process is a dead loss. It may be that the ten- 



222 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

dency toward mechanical method is stronger in the 
former case. Everything that is in the line of progress 
carries with it some new and often unforeseen danger; 
and just because scientific and technical instruction is 
intrinsically useful, the instructor is probably more likely 
to miss the broader outlook, which, in turn, is more 
easily retained when the value of the subject-matter 
is purely ideal. 

It may be concluded, then, that the function of the 
teacher is to inspire as well as to instruct. Doubtless 
his task would be materially simplified if one or the 
other of these factors could be ehminated, but the time 
when this could be safely done is past. New condi- 
tions impose new duties and demand a readjustment. 
In this readjustment something will assuredly be lost. 
The task must be so to balance the factors that a net 
gain will result. 

5. It is difficult adequately to define in psychological 
terms just what we mean by the word "ideal," yet it 
is essential that the notion be made as definite and tan- 
gible as possible if the dangers of loose thinking, to which 
educational science is so prone, are to be avoided. The 
following analysis, although quite inadequate from the 
psychological standpoint, may serve this purpose in some 
measure. 

(i) An ideal is a type of condensed experience. It is 
the upshot of a multitude of reactions and adjustments, 
both individual and racial. 



DEVELOPMENT OF IDEALS 223 

(2) Because it represents condensed experience, it is 
commonly formulated as a proposition or conceptual 
judgment. For example: "All men are created free and 
equal; " "The greatest good of the greatest number is 
the standard of conduct;" etc. Or it may be attached 
to a single word such as "honor," "chastity," "truth," 
"patriotism," and the like. 

(3) As a condensed experience, it functions in the 
process of judgment. It serves as a conscious guide to 
conduct, especially in novel and critical situations. It func- 
tions in the initiation of specific habits, and such habits 
once formed may be said to harmonize with the ideal; 
but ideals themselves do not function as habit, although 
the judgments that are based upon them may often be 
of the "intuitive" type. 

(4) The development of an ideal is both an emotional 
and an intellectual process, but the emotional element is 
by jar the more important. Ideals that lack the emotional 
coloring are simply intellectual propositions and have 
little directive force upon conduct. 

(5) Ideals may be classed as high or low according 
as they are {a) concrete or abstract ; (6) selfish or social ; 
(c) formed with reference to immediate or remote ends. 

6. The above characteristics suggest some fundamental 
propositions regarding the pedagogy of ideals. 

{a) It has already been indicated that the period of 
adolescence represents the best time for the development 
of ideals. This means that the work of the grammar 



224 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

grades, the high school, the college, and the university 
must be organized with especial reference to this factor. 
It also means that the personality of the teacher or 
instructor during this period is of fundamental impor- 
tance. 

(b) That the emotional element is dominant in the 
development of ideals indicates that mere didactic in- 
struction from the intellectual standpoint is not suffi- 
cient. The emotional spirit of the instruction is the 
factor that counts. It is also necessary that the ideal be 
reenforced and confirmed through as many channels 
of emotional functioning as possible, — that is, through 
the forms of aesthetic, intellectual, and rehgious 
sentiment.-^ Art, Hterature (including poetry, the drama, 
and fiction), music, and religion are the great media 
for the transmission of ideals and as such fulfill an educa- 
tive function far more fundamental than our didactic 
pedagogy has ever reahzed.^ 

1 Cf. E. B. Titchener : Primer of Psychology, ch. xiL 
• Cf. ch. xviii below. 



CHAPTER XV 

The Intrinsic Values of Different Types of 
Experience 

1. If education is to produce the socially efficient 
individual, it is essential that the educator know in what 
degree different types of experience will promote this 
end, and particularly the relative values of diflferent 
facts and principles — different items of knowledge — 
in their intrinsic relation to this end. These values fall 
into the five classes: (a) utilitarian, (b) conventional, 
(c) preparatory, (d) theoretical, and (e) sentimental. 

2. (a) Utilitarian Values. The utiHtarian value of 
knowledge impUes that its direct application may serve 
in the solution of the problems and situations that life 
presents. Detailed facts and general principles may 
aUke lend themselves to this purpose. If I know that 
eighteen inches of rainfall are necessary to agriculture 
without irrigation, I shall certainly not settle in a country 
where the annual rainfall is below this point, with the 
expectation of making a living by "dry" farming. If 
I know that, to find the interest on $600 for 6 months 
at 6 per cent I multiply $6 by 3, my debtor will not be 
able to cheat me. If, as a sailor, I know that a sudden 

Q 22s 



226 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

fall in the barometer commonly presages a severe storm, 
I can take in sail in time, perhaps, to avert a disaster. 
Facts and principles, then, have utilitarian value 
when they can be applied directly to some of the needs 
and situations of life. They have a legitimate claim on 
instruction from this standpoint when it can be shown 
that their utility will probably be called into service by 
the majority of the pupils receiving the instruction. Thus 
the laws of percentage and interest, the rules for addition 
and subtraction, the principles of commerce, may be said 
to be of probable value to every individual. Oppor- 
tunities will doubtless present themselves in his future 
adjustments when such knowledge will render these ad- 
justments efficient. On the other hand, there are many 
facts and principles that have no possible utilitarian 
value, and a still larger number the utilitarian value of 
which will in any case be limited to certain classes of 
the population. The number of persons, for example, 
who find occasion in mature life to apply the rules for 
extracting square and cube root is extremely small, and 
the same statement could be made with reference to a 
thousand other facts and principles that are imparted in 
elementary instruction. In fact, if those items of knowl- 
edge that have no utilitarian value were excluded from 
the school curriculum, a very few years would be suffi- 
cient to cover the work. 

It is true, however, that a utilitarian value may not be obvi- 
ous upon the surface. This is not the case with the study of 



INTRINSIC VALUES OF EXPERIENCE 22/ 

arithmetic, for the utility of quick and accurate methods of 
computation can never be doubted. But this is not so obvious 
in the case of geography. And yet if we think of geography 
as a study of the environment in its relation to the life of the in- 
dividual, the very definition seems to imply utility. Broadly 
speaking, all life is adjustment to an environment. Anything 
that tends to render this adjustment more efficient is of value 
from the standpoint of utility. Whatever reduces waste, what- 
ever saves time, energy, labor, whatever increases wealth and 
material prosperity, may be looked upon as utilitarian in its 
value. That the facts of geography possess such value is prob- 
ably not obvious at first glance, but a few concrete instances 
may serve to demonstrate it. 

The process of distribution that is continually going on, 
tending to relieve the congested areas of the earth's surface and 
to populate the undeveloped areas, may take place either 
blindly or intelligently. In the former case, lack of accurate 
information concerning the conditions of different regions — 
their relative productivity, healthfulness, etc. — leads to a 
chance or fortuitous selection of favorable environments. That 
is, under conditions of geographical ignorance, migratory 
movements frequently entail a tremendous material waste, — 
to say nothing of human suffering. We have already referred 
to the misfortunes that followed the wild rush into the semi-arid 
regions of western Kansas and Nebraska in the early eighties. 
This migratory movement was a mistake due to ignorance of 
geographical conditions. To-day the work of the scientific 
bureaus of the national government is devoted to the gathering 
of accurate information regarding the temperature, rainfall, fer- 
tility, and salubrity of various parts of the country. Annually 
a vast mass of information is published, — information which 
is, in its very essence, geographical knowledge. The pupils in 
the upper grades of the elementary schools should certainly be 
made acquainted with the sources of this information and 
trained in its interpretation. 



228 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

The merchant engaged in the export trade has no longer to 
send his vessels to distant shores on the chance that a market 
may be found for his goods. The " Consular Reports " pub- 
lished by the government give accurate information concerning 
the commercial geography of foreign countries, — what goods 
are in demand, at what profit they may be sold, what duty must 
be paid for their importation, what commodities do not find a 
sale, and a host of other valuable facts, knowledge of which 
will operate to reduce losses and increase profits. All this 
geographical knowledge is important from the utilitarian point 
of view to many different classes of people. It is knowledge 
which the merchant, the farmer, the manufacturer, and the 
legislator may frequently use to their advantage. And the 
laborer, seeking a market for his labor, may be just as materi- 
ally benefited by such knowledge as the manufacturer seeking 
a market for his products. 

The writer once proposed this question to an eighth-grade 
class that had been exceptionally well prepared in commercial 
geography : " The Great Northern Railroad recently sent a 
representative to Asiatic Russia to study the trans-Siberian 
Railroad, which was then just completed : what motives led 
the management to take this step?" A variety of answers 
were obtained, nearly all showing commendable acumen of 
thought. They were criticised by the class with the aid of sug- 
gestive questions, and the conclusion was finally reached that 
the Great Northern directors were anxious to know whether 
they could compete with Russia in supplying wheat and flour 
to the Oriental market. A member of the class later brought 
in a newspaper clipping, stating that the directors of this com- 
pany were contemplating the construction of several large trans- 
Pacific freighters. It is obvious that such a question as this is 
of vital interest, not only to the stockholders of the trans-conti- 
nental railroads, but also to every man, woman, and child living 
in the northwestern states. 



INTRINSIC VALUES OF EXPERIENCE 229 

3. But notwithstanding this widely distributed utilita- 
rian value of certain detailed facts and general principles, 
could it not be urged that, in the large, the utiUtarian 
value of any subject of instruction is a specific value for 
special occupations? The sailor needs sailor geography 
and sailor mathematics, the importing or exporting mer- 
chant needs commercial geography and commercial 
arithmetic, the farmer needs agricultural physics, the 
engineer needs mathematical physics, and so on. There 
can be no doubt of the general validity of this contention. 
On the other hand, there are a number of facts and 
principles that every one may apply to the needs of life, 
no matter what his special occupation. In practice, a 
compromise may be reached by making this latter class of 
facts a part of the elementary instruction and reserving 
the first class for the secondary and higher schools. This 
has been the policy for some time as far as the colleges 
and universities are concerned. It is now the tendency 
to speciahze secondary education in accordance with the 
needs of the community. The commercial high school 
has become a typical feature of secondary education in 
the larger commercial centers. Manual-training high 
schools are looking after another field of applied science. 
In Wisconsin the county agricultural high schools are 
serving the interests and needs of the farming communi- 
ties. In this way the specific occupations are being 
provided for and secondary education is undergoing a 
wholesome and much-needed reform. 



230 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

4. (b) Conventional Values. The prominence of 
certain items of the curriculum is to be justified, not by 
the utiUty of their facts and principles in actual appH ca- 
tion to the problems of life, but rather by the condition 
that ignorance of these facts and principles brands a 
person as uneducated, and hence serves to mihtate 
against his maximal efl&ciency in society. 

The study of grammar is perhaps the best instance of formal 
instruction, the main value of which is conventional. A sen- 
tence that is grammatically incorrect may express one's thought, 
one's meaning, just as clearly as a sentence that is grammati- 
cally correct, yet habitual use of incorrect forms — disregard 
of conventional requirements — will distract the attention of 
one's auditors from the thought to the form, and hence militate 
against the maximal efficiency of expression. It is clear, also, 
that grammar possesses a modicum, at least, of utilitarian value, 
for in many cases the incorrect form is inferior to the correct 
form in the manner in which it conveys meanings. An ungram- 
matical sentence is frequently obscure and equivocal, clumsy 
and inaccurate. But, generally speaking, the value of gram- 
matically correct expression is purely conventional, although 
none the less important and deserving of attention. 

Geographical knowledge, too, is certainly " assumed " as part 
of the intellectual equipment of every one who would claim for 
his thoughts and opinions the consideration and respect of the 
average man. One who does not know, for example, that the 
earth is round will surely be handicapped in his dealings with 
others ; for in social intercourse men and women generalize on 
slight bases, and the man who has proved himself to be ignorant 
upon so common a branch of knowledge as geography will 
receive scant attention upon other matters. The elementary 
school owes it to the individual to furnish him with those geo- 
graphical facts and concepts that "every one must know." 



INTRINSIC VALUES OF EXPERIENCE 23 1 

A certain conventipnal value also attaches to correct spelling, 
although here, too, the utilitarian value is also in evidence. 
The misspelled word not only reveals one's " ignorance," but 
frequently it may obscure one's meaning. Arithmetic may be 
said to have but a slight value from the conventional stand- 
point. Literature, on the other hand, is extremely important 
in this Hght — far more important in the schools from the con- 
ventional point of view, probably, than from any other. The 
" classics " are studied (or, better, dissected) because they are 
things that one must be familiar with. Not to have heard of 
them, at least, is to lack the first essentials of culture. This 
interpretation of their value is natural, but unfortunate. 

5. (c) Preparatory Values. The traditional Herbar- 
tian notion that ideas assimilate ideas possesses a cer- 
tain measure of truth. It is natural to expect, therefore, 
that facts and principles may have a certain value as 
bases for the acquisition of other facts and principles. 
This value may be termed preparatory. 

The preparatory value of arithmetic as a basis for the higher 
mathematics, and as a useful implement in dealing with natural 
science, needs no especial justification. The study of the 
mother tongue is also important as a groundwork for the study 
of foreign languages. 

The significance of this value is, however, most clearly re- 
vealed in the study of geography. As a recent writer^ has 
said : " History is not intelligible without geography. This 
is obviously true in the sense that the reader of history must 
learn where the frontiers of states are, where battles are fought, 
whither colonies were dispatched. It is equally, if less obvi- 
ously, true that geographical facts very largely influence the 

1 H. B. George : The Relations of Geography and History, Oxford, 
IQOI. n. I. 



232 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

course of history." The study of geography is also essential to 
a rational understanding of " current events." Not to evaluate 
current tendencies with some degree of intelligence is certainly 
not to prove one's self efificient in society. In this day, when an 
occurrence on the other side of the globe may immediately and 
directly influence the humblest citizen on this side, the ability 
to read newspapers intelligently needs no elaborate argument 
for its defense. And the ability to read newspapers intelligently 
certainly demands not a superficial, but a thorough knowledge 
of geography, as the contemporary happenings in the Orient 
abundantly testify. 

Even more important is the relation of geography to natural 
science. Geography borrows many of its facts from different 
fields of natural science — from geology, meteorology, astron- 
omy, botany, zoology, et al. In the high school and college, 
each of the sciences is treated in and for itself as a pure science, 
— that is, without explicit reference to its economic and human 
relations. It is generally agreed, however, that the initial study 
of a science should be from its economic, or human side. The 
child should be introduced to facts and principles in their rela- 
tion to his life, to his needs. The law of apperception demands 
this, and this is what geography attempts to do. In a sense it 
may be looked upon as an introduction to all the sciences of 
nature. It is here that the child must get that first large view 
that should precede all detailed and abstract study. Educators 
are now coming to believe that the curriculum should include 
geography, not only as a preparation for the sciences, but also 
as the culmination of all scientific study. The student should 
bring together the facts and principles that he has acquired in 
the detailed study of the various sciences, and discover their 
relations to human life. This is only a consistent application 
of the general principle that mind begins with large wholes, 
passes from these to detailed parts, and then back again to the 
wholes — analysis followed by synthesis, differentiation followed 
by integration. 



INTRINSIC VALUES OF EXPERIENCE 233 

6. (d) Theoretical Values. Items of knowledge that 
have Httle or no significance in the practical affairs of 
life, from either a utilitarian, a conventional, or a pre- 
paratory standpoint, may nevertheless be necessary to 
a system of knowledge. The importance of organiza- 
tion and system as important factors in eflScient recall 
has been emphasized in a former chapter. Very fre- 
quently, in organizing knowledge into a coherent whole, 
it is necessary to insert many facts and principles that 
have in themselves little practical worth. 

This, as already suggested, is the justification of a very large 
part of the educational curriculum. It is hardly too much to 
say that three fourths of every subject of instruction has abso- 
lutely no value when measured by the standards already dis- 
cussed. A large part of its value is purely theoretical, — that is, 
it contributes to the coherence of the various facts and prin- 
ciples as knowledge. Its value cannot be disputed, for any 
attempt to " cut out " the " impractical " parts invariably results 
in the inefficient functioning of the remainder. Short courses 
that aim to give only the essentials, fifth-rate colleges and nor- 
mal schools that educate you while you wait, are sufficiently 
damned by their own products. The muse of science is a jeal- 
ous mistress. She demands all, and if she fails to get all, she 
gives nothing in return for whatever she may receive. 

7. (e) Sentimental Values. Inquisitiveness in man is 
an instinct. Like all instincts, it owes its existence to 
the forces of natural selection working upon fortuitous 
variations in nerve structure. It has been "good" for 
man to be curious about his environment, to study his 
environment, and to determine the laws that govern its 



234 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

phenomena. Primitive man did not realize, probably, 
that his inordinate curiosity was good for him. In his 
own crude way he investigated things for the mere "fun 
of it," — for the pleasure it afforded him. Later in his 
development he came to find out that many of the facts 
that he discovered and many of the laws that he worked 
out were "good" for him — that the knowledge thus 
gained helped him to solve the problems of his Hfe. But 
this appreciation of the value of inquisitiveness came 
only after a long lapse of time. 

The desire to satisfy curiosity is thus seen to lie at the 
basis of knowledge. The child evinces this desire. His 
curiosity is boundless, and upon this native instinct the 
educator must build. It is clear from our previous dis- 
cussion, however, that he cannot depend upon it entirely. 
The very fact that it is an instinct means that it runs 
its course in passive attention. It is not sustained, 
directed, organized. All these things mean active atten- 
tion, mean work. Curiosity soon tires, but any measur- 
able addition to knowledge involves persistent effort. 

It is the problem of the educator, then, to replace this 
instinctive curiosity with a higher mental process. The 
desire to obtain knowledge is not to be discouraged, but 
it is to be held to a definite line until results follow. 
Wherever possible, of course, the child's curiosity should 
be directed along lines that will help him most in his 
future adjustments. There are times, however, when 
this curiosity may be directed toward ends the practi- 



INTRINSIC VALUES OF EXPERIENCE 235 

cal significance of which is not once apparent. Some 
pupils, for example, may be curious in certain special 
directions. They may evince a desire, perhaps, to learn 
all that they can about Arctic exploration. The facts 
that they obtain may not be applicable to any of the 
problems that they will be called upon to solve, yet no 
sensible teacher would think for a moment of curtailing 
this interest. He has here the opportunity to replace 
instinctive curiosity with a higher mental attitude, intel- 
lectual interest. This is a form of what is technically 
termed in psychology, sentiment. It is rather unfortu- 
nate that this term must be used, for it popularly con- 
notes something shallow and "silly." Psychologically, 
however, a sentiment is one of the highest forms of mental 
activity.^ It is emotion, refined and idealized. 

The sentiment of intellectual interest is closely akin 
to other forms of sentiment, such as appreciation of art, 
music, poetry, and the drama. None of these is in itself 
practical, yet each subserves a very practical end. With- 
out some form of pleasure, hfe would be impossible. It 
is a pretty fallacy (preached mostly by the rich) that 
one toils like a drudge for a competency and then enjoys 
one's self. Life, however, is not built upon this plan. 
Pleasure is a means to an end, not an end in itself. Bio- 
logically it may be looked upon as a bribe to keep one 
alive and in good spirits until one's life work is accom- 
plished. The individual instinctively seeks pleasure, 

1 Cf. E. B. Titchener : Primer of Psychology, ch. xii. 



236 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

and if the higher forms of pleasure have not been cul- 
tivated, he must fall back on the lower pleasures, — the 
pleasures of the senses, the satisfaction of instinctive 
desires, the insidious Unes of least resistance. 

The enhghtened educator realizes this fundamental 
truth, and he attempts in his practice to develop the 
sentiments. This is done most consciously in the field 
of the aesthetic sentiments — the appreciation of music, 
painting, and literature. These subjects form just as 
legitimate a part of the elementary school curriculum as 
arithmetic and reading and writing. But the teacher 
should certainly not forget the intellectual sentiment, — 
the pleasure that comes from knowing, — and it is for 
this reason that no wise teacher would think of curtail- 
ing the child's interest in such a subject as Arctic ex- 
ploration. With a little trouble, he may lead the child 
to take delight in a purely intellectual pursuit, just as with 
a little trouble he may lead the child to see the beauty 
in a great picture, or a classical musical composition, or 
a world epic.^ 

The foregoing paragraphs explain the criticism that was sug- 
gested on a former page concerning the teaching of literature 
for its conventional value. The educational value of Hterature 
is not primarily conventional, but rather sentimental and ideal. 
The aim in thp study of literature should be to enable the pupil 
to enjoy it, not to have him cut it up and mutilate it, nor to have 
him look upon it as a medium for communicating useful infor- 

1 This is in addition to the function of art to inspire the individual to 
higher ideals. 



INTRINSIC VALUES OF EXPERIENCE 237 

mation in an agreeable form. But, as with everything else that 
is worth while in this life, the appreciation of the higher forms 
of art is not a simple thing. It demands some degree of active 
attention, some element of work; before it can be acquired. It 
is a mistake to think that art appeals to every one simply 
because it is art. There are thousands of men and women 
who get no pleasure out of the great pictures, or the great 
poems, or the great musical compositions. Many affect enjoy- 
ment, because they have a dim sort of notion that it is the 
"proper thing." But not a few are frank enough to say that 
they see nothing in art to "rave over." And yet, once de- 
veloped through a process of active attention, the aesthetic and 
intellectual sentiments become a source of the highest kind of 
pleasure. 

8. From what has been said it might be inferred that 
education has neglected the values that we have termed 
"theoretical" and "sentimental." This is not alto- 
gether true. The briefest examination of the curricula 
of the secondary schools and colleges will serve to dem- 
onstrate the importance of these values in the higher 
departments of education. The larger part of these cur- 
ricula is made up of subjects that subserve one or another 
of these two functions: tending either to develop intel- 
lectual and aesthetic interests or to make more compre- 
hensive and complete the body of knowledge. The 
science, mathematics, language, and literature that oc- 
cupy so prominent a place in the higher education can 
be justified only upon these grounds. Here, indeed, as 
we have intimated, they are, or have been, perhaps, 
too prominent, and a reaction in favor of the utilitarian 



238 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

may work a wholesome change. In the elementary 
school, on the other hand, we find the other extreme. 
The bulk of the time is here given over to arithmetic and 
language, the latter including reading, writing, composi- 
tion, and grammar. Literature and geography, with a 
modicum of music and drawing, divide most of the 
remaining time between them. Arithmetic is justified 
entirely by its utihtarian and preparatory values, language 
by its utihtarian and conventional values, geography by 
its utilitarian, conventional, and theoretical values, litera- 
ture mainly by its conventional value, and music and 
drawing by their sentimental value.^ Just as a readjust- 
ment in favor of the more practical values has been 
important to the efficiency of higher education, so a 
readjustment in involving a more explicit recognition 
of the sentimental values would seem desirable in the 
elementary schools. This would not mean the introduc- 
tion of more subjects, but rather a reform in methods of 
teaching. 

* To those who are troubled by the cry, now so seldom heard, " Art for 
art's sake," the following expression from John Addington Symonds may 
be comforting : " I had composed these lectures for what I most abhor, 
an audience of cultivated people. This is a paradoxical confession. I am 
nothing if not cultivated, or at least the world expects only culture from 
me. But in my heart of hearts I do not believe in culture except as an 
adjunct. * Life is more than literature,' I say. So I cannot, although I 
devote my time and energy to culture (even as a carpenter makes doors 
or a carver carves edelweiss on walnut wood) regard it otherwise than in 
the light of pastime, decoration, service." — Quoted in H. F. Brown's 
Life of John Addington Symonds^ speaking of lectures delivered in 1877 
on " Florence and the Medici." 



PART VI. THE TRANSMISSION OF 
EXPERIENCE AND THE TECH- 
NIQUE OF TEACHING 

CHAPTER XVI 

The Transmission of Experience in the Concrete: 
Imitation and Objective Teaching 

1. Up to this point, the educative process has been 
treated mainly from the standpoint of the individual 
who is to be educated ; it must now be viewed from the 
standpoint of the teacher who is to control and direct this 
process. The remaining chapters will consider the va- 
rious ways in which the teacher may lead the child to 
acquire experiences, the present chapter dealing par- 
ticularly with the transmission of concrete experiences 
through imitation and objective teaching. 

2. (a) Imitation. It is instinctive for the child to 
imitate the processes that he sees going on in the world 
about him. It seems to be a fundamental law ^ of psy- 
cho-physics that an idea or a perception always tends to 
work itself out in action: the child's concrete expe- 
rience of witnessing a given process is applied instinc- 
tively in a repetition of that process. It has already 

1 Often called the "Igw. .af dynamogenesis"; see J. M. Baldwin: 
Mental Development : Methods and Processes, pp. 165 ff. 

339 



240 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

been shown ^ how education lays hold of this primary 
instinct and turns it into the acquired interest of con- 
struction. But education also makes other uses of imi- 
tation. Indeed, there are those ^ who maintain that 
imitation is the fundamental principle, not only of edu- 
cation, but of all mental development. There is a dan- 
ger here as elsewhere, however, of taking an extreme 
position in magnifying a given factor, if not beyond its 
theoretical significance, at least far beyond its practical 
significance. And, after all, education is not so much 
concerned with the development of imitation. Imitation 
is an instinct and needs either utilization, transformation, 
or elimination — not development. 

Probably the most important truth for the teacher to 
reahze in connection with imitation is this: the child 
imitates that which he admires. And the practical appli- 
cation of this truth involves, not only the provision of 
good models for imitation, but also, and more funda- 
mentally, the leading of the child to admire and emulate 
these models. The first point has been adequately em- 
phasized and even overemphasized by educators during 
the past decade. The latter point has been very sadly 
neglected. 

Thus in impressing correct forms of speech, it is not sufficient 
to provide good models of speech. In addition it must be 

* Cf. ch. vi, above. 

^ Baldwin, op. dt., chs. ix-xii; see also an admirable critique of Bald* 
win's theory in King, op. cit., ch. x. 



IMITATION AND OBJECTIVE TEACHING 24 1 

assured that bad models do not appeal the more strongly to the 
child. Many children hear good language in the home and in 
the schoolroom, but they hear crude language on the street and 
on the playground. More than this, it is safe to say that the 
crude forms appeal as a rule the more strongly to the child. 
There is not a real boy but strenuously abjures what he con- 
siders the niceties of personal bearing and speech in favor of 
the swaggering air, the crude phrases, and the coarse jests of 
his boyish heroes. The uncultured strata of society stand for 
arrested development and so approximate the plane of child- 
hood. It is natural that children should be attracted more 
strongly to representatives of these strata than to the represen- 
tatives of culture and learning, with whom they have no com- 
mon bond. 

Nor would the sane educator have it otherwise, — for the 
time. There is a period of childhood when the prim niceties 
are distinctly out of place and when the little prig who prac- 
tices them is justly frowned upon as precocious and unnatural. 
But this does not mean that education is to neglect the crudities 
of speech and manner, or to permit them to persist. Slowly 
but surely the child must be led to admire and emulate the 
higher forms of life, and even before this point is reached, edu- 
cation can see to it that the cruder models are at least clean 
and wholesome rather than base and degrading. 

3. Imitation and Habit Building. Imitation is an im- 
portant factor in the initial stages of habit forming. It 
will be remembered that the fundamental principle of 
habit forming is focalization and drill in attention. It 
is only after a long period of practice that the stimulus 
"sets off" the reaction automatically. For a long time, 
the stimulus must be met with a concrete idea of the 
appropriate movement, — a process that involves the 



242 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

essential conditions of the practical judgment. In the 
development of a typical motor automatism, such as 
walking or speech, the first incentive will probably be 
furnished by imitation. The child notices these pro- 
cesses going on in the world about him and makes an 
effort to repeat them. As King^ says: "He gets more 
or less vivid images of the activity of other children or 
of adults. These images, by the very fact that they have 
been selected out of an infinite complex of images, 
indicate their afl&nity to certain impulses to action on 
the part of the child that are struggling for expression." 
That is, the process that he sees is coincident with some 
impulse that he feels for similar movement. Imitation 
gives him the cue, as it were. It selects impulses at the 
appropriate moment and turns them into social channels. 
To the extent that the sight of the process stimulates 
these impulses into action, imitation may be looked upon 
as an important practical judgment initiating habit. 

But in the further development of habit, imitation 
probably plays a very minor part. The adjustment once 
made with a fair degree of success, further details are 
improved by a recall of the experiences of the first and 
subsequent movements rather than by a recall of the 
process that the child has witnessed in another person. 
The process of habit forming, once started by imitation, 
goes on by what may be called the "method of trial 
and error." Each successful effort forms a new expe- 

* King, op. cit., p. 121. 



IMITATION AND OBJECTIVE TEACHING 243 

rience that can be revived and applied concretely to the 
next trial. Each unsuccessful effort also forms an expe- 
rience which, when revived on a future occasion, serves 
to inhibit the movements that before proved unsatis- 
factory. 

All school activities that we group under the head of manual 
training (including writing, drawing, sloyd, etc.) and moral 
training (cleanliness, industry, silence, etc.) are important from 
this point of view. Here the aim is to train the muscles to cer- 
tain specific adjustments, and the only way in which this can 
be done is by imitation, trial and error, and persistent practice. 
The task of the teacher is to provide a good model in the first 
place, and then to keep the child constantly returning to the 
process, frequendy comparing the results of his work with the 
model, until proficiency results. 

4. Imitation and Apperception. The fact that the 
child imitates that which he admires is only a concrete 
expression of the principle of apperception. Imitation 
depends first upon focaHzation, and a process is imitated 
the more readily if it is seen to have a distinct and vital 
relation to the needs of life. Certainly these needs may 
not always be economic needs. In very early childhood, 
processes are imitated with great pains, not because 
their purpose is perceived, but because they coincide, as 
King says, with an inherent impulse.^ Here the needn 
that operate to select "copies" are primitive and innate, 

1 The writer has observed a two-year-old girl carefully wipe certain 
chairs that had just been dusted, but scrupulously avoid touching thos« 
that her mother's duster had not yet reached. 



244 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

But education, as has been pointed out, must get the 
child as rapidly as possible beyond this blind and pur- 
poseless stage to a plane where the need? will be of a 
higher order.^ Imitation still operates here, but in the 
form of constructive interest rather than in the form of 
primitive imitation. In other words, the model must be 
copied with a purpose, and the more vital the purpose, 
the greater will be the motive for copying the model 
faithfully. 

This is clearly seen in the current methods of teaching 
drawing. Objects that possess intrinsic interest to the 
child have almost entirely replaced the "type forms" 
once so generally used. True, there is still a place for 
the type form, but not until the pupil can see that its use 
will subserve a distinct end. This point will obviously 
not be reached until he can grasp a rather involved 
mediation of means to ends, — in short, until he has 
attained the plane of conceptual judgment. 

Similarly, in manual training, the formal exercises, 
such as whittling to a straight line, planing a board to a 
smooth surface, constructing typical joints, etc., without 
having in view the construction of some definite and 
useful object, are justly giving place to a more rational 
treatment which assumes that the child will learn best 
how to make these adjustments if he has in mind some- 
thing that he wishes to make and then sets about to make 
it. His product will be crude enough at first, but it will 

1 Cf. ch. vi, above. 



IMITATION AND OBJECTIVE TEACHING 245 

supply a motive for painstaking practice that will ulti- 
mately lead to good results. Here again the formal 
exercises have a place in the later stages of instruction 
when the pupil can perceive something of their value. 
The use of models in written composition is subject 
to the same conditions. One reason for the paucity of 
results in this field of education is the lack of a vital 
motive. Merely to write a letter or a composition for 
the sake of writing is not a task for the average adult 
to enthuse over, much less the average child. President 
Hall has said that no written work should be undertaken 
in the schools the need for which does not originate in 
the child himself. This is profoundly true, but the 
practical question arises. How can this need be sup- 
plied? This question is so important in the work of 
the elementary school that space may profitably be 
given to a few suggestions that have proved valuable 
in the writer's experience. 

(a) The narrative form of composition seems to afford a more 
natural avenue of expression in children than the descriptive or 
expository forms. The writer has noticed that the majority 
of children will respond enthusiastically to the suggestion of an 
imaginative story. Here the need is perhaps furnished by the 
instinctive tendency to "day-dream."^ 

(d) The construction of little dramas that the children are 
later to enact furnishes a very powerful motive for painstaking 

1 Cf. Theodate L. Smith, in American Journal of Psychology, 1904, 
Tol. XV, pp. 465 flf. ; also, S. W. Eaton : " Children's Stories," in Pedagogical 
Seminary, 1895, '^°1- "i» PP* 334. Z:^^- 



246 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

work in composition. This device is employed rather generally 
at the present time, although the tendency to utilize " ready- 
made " dramatizations frequently eliminates its most important 
virtue. Needless to say, the drama that is worked up by a 
class of twelve-year-olds will be a very crude affair, but it is in 
the recognition of its crudities through later comparison with 
better models that an important motive for improvement is 
secured. 

(r) The " lantern lesson," which is sometimes employed in 
the teaching of geography, should certainly be noted in this 
connection^ In some of the larger cities, each school is sup- 
plied with a small stereopticon, and sets of slides illustrative of 
geographical topics are kept at the central office. The teacher 
who wishes to give a lantern lesson consults the catalogue of 
slides to find out what topics are represented by the pictures. 
Each child is then assigned one of the topics and works up a 
two or three minute talk upon it, consulting all available authori- 
ties and sources in his search for materials. At the period 
assigned for the lesson, he is responsible for presenting his 
topic clearly, concisely, and entertainingly. The value of this 
exercise from the standpoint of language training as well as 
from the standpoint of geography is plainly apparent. In 
schools that lack the advantages of a stereopticon, the same 
principle can be effectively applied in picture lessons of the 
usual type. With the wealth of illustrative materials so easily 
culled from the magazines or so cheaply purchased from 
dealers, the teacher could easily keep on hand a complete 
stock of pictures adapted to all the important chapters of 
geography. These would best be mounted on large cards 
of uniform size and filed away in card-catalogue fashion. Need- 
less to say, such a device will miss much of its virtue if used too 
frequently. 

id) For letter writing, a very simple device is to arrange 
with another school for a correspondence club. Here the 
spirit or instinct of emulation is strongly appealed to. 



IMITATION AND OBJECTIVE TEACHING 247 

(<r) Finally, in the upper grades and in the high school 
the school paper will furnish a motive for careful literary 
construction. 

If the pupil has a motive for expression, the employ- 
ment of models for helpful imitation in matters of form 
will be simple enough. The danger of plagiarism, while 
not serious, is certainly to be counteracted. To this 
end, it is probably well that the pupil should do his best 
without the model at first, and then compare his own 
crude results with the better form. 

5. To summarize: Imitation is a primitive instinct 
which, in early childhood, operates without consciousness 
of purpose in the repetition of adjustments noticed in 
others. The constructive imitation of later childhood 
operates with consciousness of purpose to make more 
nearly perfect an adjustment, especially when the need 
of perfection is apparent to the child. Both the primi- 
tive and the acquired forms of imitation are valuable in 
initiating habits. 

6. (6) Objective Teaching. This is exemplified in 
the concrete study of local geography, in school excur- 
sions to stores, factories, transportation depots, docks, 
etc., in the educational use of museum materials, and in 
laboratory and "demonstration" exercises. Its aim is. 
primarily to give the pupil rich, vivid mental "pictures" 
of concrete realities. Its virtue lies in the fact that it 
involves an acquaintance with objects through several 
sense channels — through sight, hearing, pressure, strain, 



248 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

and perhaps even taste and smell. For the purpose of 
impressing vivid and enduring experiences, it is, as a 
rule, superior to instruction through pictures and models. 
7. The fundamental principle that conditions the suc- 
cess of objective teaching is a corollary of the law of 
apperception. One who visits a museum or makes a 
trip into the country acquires educative experiences in 
direct proportion (i) to the preparation that he has made 
in the way of preliminary study, and (2) to the efifort 
and attention that he puts into his observations. The 
average museum visitor gets very little from his casual 
inspection of specimens, because he brings to this inspec- 
tion nothing but ignorance and idle curiosity. The same 
is true of the hordes of people who wander from build- 
ing to building at the great industrial expositions, sub- 
jecting themselves to thousands of different stimuli, of 
which even the few that reach the threshold of conscious- 
ness fail to make an abiding impression; and when, 
after conscientiously examining their daily allotment of 
those exhibits that are reputed to be worth seeing, 
they betake themselves to the Midway or the Pike, they 
heave a sigh of relief to think that the duty has been per- 
formed and that a httle real enjoyment has thereby been 
earned. Those who gain anything worth while from the 
great World's Fairs or from minor exhibitions are those 
who are deeply interested in some one particular field and 
who limit themselves to the exhibits that illustrate this 
field. The farmers at the county fair study and com- 



IMITATION AND OBJECTIVE TEACHING 249 

pare different strains of stock and different specimens 
of products. They are able to bring to what they see 
a well-organized complex of specific apperceptive systems. 
Demonstrations in chemistry and physics would prob- 
ably hold the attention of young children, but they would 
be of little educative value unless the observers had had 
some previous training or instruction in these sciences. 
The ceaseless activity of the great freight depots is in- 
teresting enough to the casual on-looker merely from the 
fact that life and movement naturally soUcit passive 
attention ; but he who is to educate himself in any ap- 
preciable measure from such experiences must first get 
beyond this primitive state of mind. 

It seems clear, then, that objective teaching will miss 
its purpose if it permits itself to be deceived by the visi- 
ble signs of attention and interest. Here, as elsewhere, 
eflfective acqiusition is directly proportional to the degree 
of effort involved. It is dear, too, that objective teach- 
ing should always be preceded by a preliminary exercise 
which aims to make expHcit the apperceptive systems 
that are to be utilized in interpreting the new impressions. 

8. The School Excursion as a Type of Objective Teach- 
ing. The school excursion is extensively used in the 
study of home geography, sometimes with excellent re- 
sults. In some communities, public sentiment is some- 
what against the excursion, but it is safe to say that 
where this useful educational device is not employed, the 
fault is generally with the teacher and not with the par- 



250 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

ents. It is very much easier to study geography in the 
class room than it is to trudge over iSelds and hills with 
full responsibility for keeping thirty or forty active chil- 
dren out of mischief. But the educational possibihties 
of the excursion are so numerous that the attendant diflBi- 
culties should not be permitted to stand in its way. 

Four general rules may be laid down for the success- 
ful conduct of the school excursion: (i) It must have a 
definite end in view; there must be something in par- 
ticular to be studied — the course of a river, the formation 
of a talus slope, the action of weathering upon rocks, the 
work of a creamery or brickyard. (2) It must not at- 
tempt too much; a single land feature or a single local 
industry will be enough for one excursion. (3) It must 
be held within the limits of its original purpose; it is 
a school exercise and not a picnic. (4) It must be 
succeeded as early as possible by a full and complete 
discussion leading to a series of definite propositions 
summing up the net results. 

The following excellent suggestions relative to the school 
excursion are cited from the Indiana State Manual:'^ — 

" (i) Invariably a teacher should make the visit herself and 
find out all the conditions to be met before taking a class. 

" (2) She should plan the excursion with more care than any 
ordinary recitation, foreseeing exactly what facts she desires her 
pupils to note, and in what order. 

" (3) Before starting out with her pupils she should acquaint 
them, as a rule, with the main questions that are to be answered 

^ Compiled by Fassett A. Cotton, Indianapolis, 1904. 



IMITATION AND OBJECTIVE TEACHING 2$! 

Dy the excursion. For instance, if a dairy is to be visited, some 
of the questions in their minds might be : How are the cows 
housed? What is their feed ? How is the milk cooled? How 
is it bottled ? What precautions are taken for cleanliness ? How 
is the milk brought to customers? Or, if a valley is to be vis- 
ited, the pupils should be asked to observe trench form, bluffs, 
streams, channels, banks, moving sediment, and flood plane, 
with the purpose of bringing out the idea of how the stream 
works and the results of its work. Only the leading questions 
need be held in mind on their way, and no attempt on the part 
of the teacher should be made to answer these questions before- 
hand. 

" (4) Some of the parents in the community should be in- 
vited to assist the teacher in conducting the children. They 
will get new light as to a teacher's difficulties, and as to the 
value of the excursions. An excursion affords an opportunity 
for one of the best kinds of parents' meetings. 

"(5) Now and then during the observations the children 
should be halted, brought into a group, and led to consider 
certain points in regular class-room fashion, even though they 
be standing on the side of the street or along an open ditch. 
On the return of the excursion, the points noted should be 
reviewed and connected. 

" The excursions should be taken, at least partly, and often 
wholly, during regular school hours, this being an essential part 
of the programme." 

9. Museums. The visiting of museums in communi- 
ties where such institutions are available should form 
an important avenue for objective teaching. Here, 
again, the necessity of having a definite object in view 
is paramount. Museums generally contain such a 
wealth of material that a general inspection is largely 



252 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

without profit. As a rule, perhaps, the museum should 
be used to illustrate objects and processes with which 
the children are already somewhat familiar through the 
ordinary work of the schoolroom. A class studying 
South America may profitably spend an afternoon in 
a museum which contains specimens of South American 
fauna and flora, restricting themselves entirely to this 
division and resisting the numerous temptations to wan- 
der off into other alcoves. The zoological gardens of 
the larger cities and the unique Shaw Botanic Gardens 
of St. Louis are really museums, and their pedagogical 
utility depends on the principles just noted. 

The school museum certainly deserves mention in this 
connection. This adjunct is, perhaps, as important to 
the elementary school as is the school library, particularly 
in those sections where well- equipped general museums 
are not available. Through an exchange of products 
between widely separated communities, valuable collec- 
tions may be made at a merely nominal cost. Such 
collections might well contain specimens of minerals, of 
different kinds of soils, of woods used in building and 
cabinet making, of textile and other manufactured prod- 
ucts together with the raw materials from which they are 
made, and as complete a representation as possible of 
these materials at different stages of manufacture. To 
this equipment could be added stuffed animals, pressed 
plants, cabinets of insects, specimens preserved in alcohol, 
and the like, for illustrating chapters in natural history. 



IMITATION AND OBJECTIVE TEACHING 253 

It is perhaps well to keep such specimens in places where 
the pupils will not be Hkely to become familiar with 
them until they are to be used in class exercises. Other- 
wise the element of novelty, which is extremely impor- 
tant in all forms of objective teaching, is apt to be lost. 

10. The School Garden. This important medium of 
objective teaching has been so thoroughly exploited in 
the past few years that httle need be said concerning it 
in this place. Like all forms of "manual training," it 
involves the factor of actual motor adjustment, so pro- 
foundly significant to adequate apperception. The close 
contact into which the pupil is brought with the processes 
of plant growth and cultivation will furnish him with a 
concrete idea of the basal industry of husbandry that 
he would fail to get from the most vivid descriptions or 
pictorial representations. From the standpoint of the 
city child, the "school garden" doctrine is one of the 
most promising advances that have been made in pres- 
ent-day education. 

11. The Laboratory. Laboratory methods vary so 
much with different subjects of instruction that it is 
quite out of the question for any one writer adequately 
to treat of them. In general, the laboratory has two 
quite distinct functions: {a) it serves the purpose of 
illustration and demonstration by bringing the pupil into 
a direct, firstthand acquaintance with the objects and 
processes with which he has already been made some- 
what familiar through formal instruction; and (&) it 



254 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

provides situations and environments from which the 
more advanced student may draw conclusions and work 
out for himself the laws and principles that govern the 
world of matter. It is the former function that should 
be treated under the head of objective teaching, and its 
use in this connection is subject to the general conditions 
noted above. The principles governing the latter func- 
tion will be more thoroughly discussed in Chapter XIX. 
12. The Limitations of Objective Teaching. The fact 
that attention is attracted and held more successfully by 
the objective and moving than by the subjective and 
static not infrequently leads to an overemphasis of ob- 
jective teaching. The devices that have just been noted 
have an important place in education, and especially in 
the preadolescent stages, where one of the leading aims 
is to impress vivid, concrete images. But the matter can 
be easily overdone, even here. The mind that has 
learned to lean helplessly upon the objective factor will 
always be weak and flaccid unless a strenuous effort is 
made to induce conceptual and subjective processes. 
Concrete images must always be looked upon as noth- 
ing more than necessary but totally subordinate means 
to a much higher end. Teachers have been so frequently 
urged to avoid the abstract that they themselves are 
almost afraid to think in abstract terms: witness the 
flabby "sense" psychology and the diluted milk-and- 
water "treatises" that constitute the bulk of our edu- 
cational hterature! Education will never become the 



IMITATION AND OBJECTIVE TEACHING 255 

dignified profession that it hopes to be until the rank 
and file assume a different attitude toward the principles 
of their calling. 

Grant Allen, in a posthumous essay on Spencer, char- 
acterized this master as one who thought and talked in 
principles rather than personalities. Huxley made the 
same remark concerning Darwin. Throughout the his- 
tory of the race, intellectual progress has ever been away 
from the sensuous and concrete, and toward the ideal and 
abstract. The education of the child must follow the 
same Une. The pretty pedagogical dogma that education 
should "begin in the concrete, continue in the concrete, 
and end in the concrete" is probably, next to "educa- 
tion through play," the most pernicious proposition for 
which the new schoolcraft must render an accounting. 



CHAPTER XVn 

The Transmission of Condensed Experiences: 
Development and Instruction 

I. In a former chapter, the pedagogy of the concept 
was briefly treated. It was there pointed out that, in 
every case, concepts must be built up on a basis of 
concrete experience, but that, once these concepts are 
adequately developed, they may be manipulated in judg- 
ment with Httle or no explicit reference to the experi- 
ences on which they rest. Judgments thus formed may 
be appHed to the solution of concrete situations, hence 
it is an important duty of education to provide the indi- 
vidual with a supply of such judgments representing the 
most usable portion of experiences that generations have 
found to be serviceable. 

There are two distinct methods of providing these 
judgments: (i) they may be given to the individual pre- 
formed ; or (2) the individual may be placed under con- 
ditions that will impel him to form them for himself. 
The former procedure may be termed the indirect method, 
or the method of instruction; the latter, the direct method, 
or the method of development : in the one the judgments 
are given ready-made, in the other the pupil is led to 

256 



DEVELOPMENT AND INSTRUCTION 2$7 

form judgments de novo — is led, in other words, to 
"reason." 

2. It is clear that progress is rendered possible by the 
fact that we may assimilate and turn to our own use 
certain of the judgments that have been worked out by 
our predecessors. In this way we profit, not only by our 
own experience, but also by the experiences of others. If 
this were not the case, each would have to repeat, step 
by step, the monotonous history of those who had pre- 
ceded him, subject to the same sources of error and mak- 
ing all the mistakes and blunders that they had made. 
But through the organization of experiences in judg- 
ment form, the mistakes are gradually eUminated. Each 
generation inherits from its predecessors innumerable 
systems of judgments which represent years, perhaps 
centuries, of selection and elimination. It is hardly too 
much to say that, for every fact and principle that sur- 
vives, a thousand false judgments and erroneous prin- 
ciples have been ehminated. The former constitute our 
intellectual heritage; the latter have been forgotten. 

Education must raise the child to the intellectual level 
of the race by endowing him with this intellectual heri- 
tage. This cannot be done altogether by leading him 
to repeat the history of the race and to organize for him- 
self the experiences thus gained. It remains, therefore, 
for the educator to adapt his methods to existing condi- 
tions. He must do his best in the brief period during 
which the child is at his disposal. The judgments that 



258 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

one makes for one's self certainly function more efiSciently 
than the judgments that one borrows from others. It 
is equally true, however, that, if the child should form 
all judgments for himself, he would be severely handi- 
capped as a member of society.-^ It is necessary, then, 
to effect a compromise between the two horns of this 
dilemma — to determine under what conditions the direct 
method of discovery is to be employed and under what 
conditions we must place our chief dependence upon the 
indirect method of instruction. This is the practical 
question that confronts the teacher at every turn: how 
much of this material shall I have my pupils work out 
for themselves, and how much shall I tell them? 

3. An answer to this question will inevitably savor not 
a little of dogmatism, for as yet scientific investigation 
has not touched this important field. Consequently, 
dependence must be placed in the main upon that type of 
experience that we have termed "common sense." 

First with regard to facts, — judgments representing 
reaction to concrete situations, — it is obvious that there 
are many such judgments that the individual will be 

1 Rousseau proposed to carry this theory to the extreme in the educa- 
tion of Emile. " Let him not learn science," he says; " let him invent it " 
(Emile, in, 173). " Emile will never know optics. He will never have 
dissected insects: he will not have counted the spots on the sun: he will 
know neither microscopes nor telescopes. Your learned pupils will deride 
him. They will not be far wrong; because, before using these instru- 
ments, I mean that he shall invent them, and you are right in believing 
that this will not be early" (Emile, iii, 223). — Cited by J. P. Monroe: 
TAe Educational Ideal, Boston, 1896, p. 166. 



DEVELOPMENT AND INSTRUCTION 259 

unable to obtain through his own experience. All the 
facts of history and most of the facts of geography belong 
to this class; the pupil has nothing for it but to take 
them on faith. There are also many facts that the 
pupil might possibly verify by actual experience, but 
which may just as effectively and much more economi- 
cally be taken on the testimony of others. 

On the other hand, there are many facts that the pupil 
will do well to discover for himself. In the cases cited 
in Chapter X, for example, it is far better for the pupil 
to see for himself the conditions under which seeds ger- 
minate than to have the facts told by some one who has 
made the observation for him. It is "far better" for 
two reasons: in the first place, the situation will make 
a deeper impression upon him and become more amen- 
able to efficient recall; in the second place, he may, 
perhaps, form upon the basis of this process some valu- 
able ideals as to observation and experiment in general. 

Such instances are not, however, numerous in the 
work of the elementary school, and, in general, it may 
be concluded that the realm of individual facts is a legiti- 
mate field of the indirect method. Books of description 
and narration, oral presentations, pictures, diagrams, and 
models will all be levied upon under the guidance of 
principles to be developed in the following chapter. This, 
of course, does not mean that the direct method has no 
place in this field. It simply means that the indirect 
method finds Us chief appHcation here. 



260 , THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

4. In the case of principles based upon facts, however, 
the pupil is not necessarily Hmited to the "borrowing" 
method. Having particular judgments — the data — in 
his possession, he may work these up into generaliza- 
tions or principles, and having the generalizations in his 
possession, he may work back into particulars. That 
is, he can manipulate judgments by processes of logical 
reasoning, and so bring them into relation with one an- 
other, weave them together by thought connections, and 
synthetize them into coherent systems. In what manner 
this contributes to their revival value has already been 
noted. 

The problem, then, is reduced to this : Shall the teacher 
ever do the reasoning for the pupil? If so, to what 
extent? It is safe to lay down the general rule that the 
right of generalization from particulars and the right of 
inference from generalizations belong to the pupil. This 
conclusion is based upon a firm conviction borne out by 
a great deal of empirical evidence, that the judgments 
that the pupil makes for himself and puts into systems 
largely through his own efforts are infinitely more valu- 
able to him than those in which the thought connections 
are suppHed — in which the reasoning is done for him. 

This is the main difference between telling and teaching — 
between forcing opinions and principles upon the pupil through 
lectures or text-book quizzes and leading him to work them 
out for himself through his own active effort. To take a con- 
crete illustration : In a half hour, a fluent speaker, familiar with 



DEVELOPMENT AND INSTRUCTION 26 1 

his subject, can explain to a class in the seventh or eighth 
grade why New York is the largest city in the United States. 
It will take the best of teachers several recitation periods, of a 
half hour each, adequately to develop these reasons with the 
same class. Yet no one who has compared the results of the 
two methods will hesitate a moment over the verdict as to 
which process is the more valuable. The same is true in the 
case of arithmetic. A teacher may thoroughly explain in a 
brief period the working of a problem in bank discount. It 
will take four or five times as long to lead the children to 
" think it out " for themselves, but the results in the latter 
case will be eight or ten times as valuable. 

Of course these comparisons are more or less dogmatic, and 
the figures entirely imaginary, but both comparisons and fig- 
ures are supported by excellent authority. It is to be hoped 
that experimental investigation will reach this important prob- 
lem before long, and give us results that will be really worth 
while. Pending such investigations, however, our only refuge 
is in dogmatizing on the insufficient data already in our pos- 
session. 

5. Certainly this principle that the rights of generali- 
zation and inference belong to the child is not to be 
accepted without qualification. 

(i) It is folly to assume that an immature child can 
build up a coherent system of knowledge alone and un- 
aided. The discovery of relations that hold facts and 
principles together is a task that occupies the highest 
type of mental activity. Men who can think clearly are 
few in number, and even when we find them, we find that 
their capacities in this direction are Umited to a restricted 
field, in which, through speciahzed and intensive appli- 



262 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

cation, they have made themselves proficient. If, then, 
the development method meant that the child should do 
for himself what trained experts find the greatest diffi- 
culty in accomplishing, the task of the teacher would be 
worse than hopeless. 

But if the development theory does not mean this, 
what does it mean? Simply that the pupil is not to be 
told but led to see} The teacher is to guide and direct 
but not to carry, and the more he eliminates his own ego^ 
even from the guidance and direction, the more satis- 
factory will be the result. Whatever the pupil gains, 
whatever thought connections he works out, must be 
gained with the consciousness that he, the pupil, is the 
active agent — that he is, in a sense at least, the discov- 
erer. Unknown to him, however, the insuperable obsta- 
cles must be removed. Unknown to him the way must 
be partially cleared before him. 

And so in answer to the original question, Shall the 
teacher ever do the reasoning for the child ? we can answer 
neither "yes" nor "no." If we mean. Shall one follow 
out a line of reasoning as one does in a lecture, tracing 
the various steps through which the conclusion is reached ? 
we should say seldom. If we mean, Should the teacher 
ever help the child by hints, suggestions, and questions? 
we should say almost always. Our criterion must be 

1 Cf. Spencer : " Children should be led to make their own investiga- 
tions and draw their own inferences. They should be told as little as 
possible and led to discover as much as possible." — Education, ii. 



DEVELOPMENT AND INSTRUCTION 263 

this: Does the pupil beheve himself to be discovering 
the truth? This is the essential point. As long as he is 
confident that he is the discoverer, the essential condition 
of the development method has been fulfilled. In other 
words, it is the subjective attitude of the pupil that is 
important rather than the objective process. 

(2) It is clear that the child's rights of generalization 
and inference do not in the slightest degree reheve the 
teacher of the task of arranging his own work systemati- 
cally. This fallacy has caused the development method 
to fall into disrepute in some quarters. Teachers have 
interpreted it to mean that the text-book helps the child 
too much — does too much of his thinking for him. As 
a result of this belief, pupils have been encouraged to 
browse around in "sources," nibbling at this thing and 
that, making acquaintance with a mass of facts and prin- 
ciples that they are supposed to correlate and systema- 
tize. As a matter of fact, the child is only confused, 
and emerges from such a course with little more accurate 
knowledge than he had at the beginning. It is the func- 
tion of the teacher to see that the various parts of the 
course are presented in consecutive order, — in such a 
way that the pupil cannot fail to see the relations that 
the teacher desires to develop. 

In short it is precisely at this point that the teacher may 
profitably do some of the thinking for the pupil. It is 
here also that the text-book has an appropriate function. 
In the ideal school and under ideal teachers, teacher and 



264 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

pupil will work out their text-books for themselves as 
they do to-day in Germany, but under the conditions of 
American education, this ideal is far in the future. We 
shall have more to say upon this point in a future chap- 
ter. Here it is only necessary to point out that the de- 
velopment method does not do away with text-books 
any more than it does away with teachers. With the 
aid that the text-book gives, there is still abundant room 
for the child to exercise his rights of generahzation and 
inference. 

6. To summarize. The development method is sel- 
dom used alone, but is almost always supplemented by 
the method of instruction. We may attempt to have 
the child work out his generalizations and inferences 
independently, but, in many cases, the facts upon which 
he is to work must be given to him indirectly, and, at 
best, not a few of the generalizations and inferences must 
themselves be matters of ipse dixit, or at least explicitly 
suggested through hints and questions. 

Consequently, the indirect method is always important, 
even under the most favorable conditions, and must be 
studied carefully, both from the standpoint of theory 
and from the standpoint of technique. The first prob- 
lem will be to discuss the different media through which 
the indirect method works. This will be the task of the 
succeeding chapter. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

The Media of Instruction 

I. The following classification of the media of instruc- 
tion is not intended to be rigidly inclusive of all possible 
forms. It may, however, be comprehensive enough 
to serve as a framework for the succeeding discussion. 
The terms employed are self-explanatory. 

I. Intellectual transmission. 

(a) Language. 

(i) Oral discourse. 

(a) Lectures. 

{b) Questions and answers. 
(2) Books. 

{a) Text-books. 

{b) Reference books. 

{c) Source books. 

(b) Graphic representation, 
(i) Models. 

(2) Pictures. 

(3) Maps. 

(4) Diagrams. 

II. Emotional transmission. 

{a) Literature. 
{b) Pictorial art. 
(c) Plastic art. 
((I) Music. 
{e) Oratory. 

265 



266 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

2. (a) Language. This is the most eflScient medium 
for the transmission of experience: (i) because it is 
the most elaborately organized and hence susceptible 
of the greatest variety of combinations expressing the 
finest gradations of meaning; and (2) because it em- 
ploys words which represent condensed experiences 
or concepts; thus dealing with experience not in the 
concrete but in the abstract — deaUng, in other words, 
only with essentials. 

There are, however, three factors that condition the 
highest efficiency of language. These factors are espe- 
cially important in the use of language as a medium of 
instruction, (i) The first is agreement of meaning. My 
words represent my own experiences. If they do not 
represent your experiences as well, we talk at cross pur- 
poses. Hence the common saying that there would be 
few disputes in the world if men could only agree upon 
terms. Hence, also, the strenuous efifort in every science 
to build up a vocabulary of technical terms the mean- 
ing of each of which shall be absolutely unequivocal. 
An important duty of education in its earlier stages is 
to give the child a vocabulary. We have already empha- 
sized this point from the conceptual side, but the child 
needs words not only that he may manipulate his con- 
cepts readily in the formation of judgments for his own 
use, but also that he may assimilate the experiences of 
his fellows and transmit to others his own experiences. 

(2) A second factor that influences the efficiency of 



THE MEDIA OF INSTRUCTION 267 

language is the danger of verbalism, which is the com- 
monest and most pernicious species of formalism. It 
is so easy to juggle with words that the temptation is 
often strong to use words obscurely in order to cover 
deficiencies of thought. As Talleyrand paradoxically 
put it, "Speech was given man to conceal his thoughts." 
From a negative standpoint, this factor is extremely 
important to the process of instruction. 

(3) A third condition of the effective use of language 
is mastery of forms of combination. There are certain 
conventional requirements as to the manner in which 
words shall be put together. Some of these require- 
ments may, perhaps, be neglected at times without inter- 
fering materially with the purpose of expression, but 
in general very decided lapses from conventional forms 
tend to make expression inefficient. It is therefore an 
important task of education in its earher stages to make 
habitual the use of conventionally correct forms. 

3. Comparison of Oral and Book Instruction. Expe- 
riences may be transmitted either by word of mouth or 
by written or printed symbols. The former may be 
designated as the oral, the latter as the book method. 
Both are extensively used in the schools, but as books 
become cheaper and more common, the tendency is 
toward an increasing use of the latter method. There 
are those, however, who maintain that this emphasis 
of book instruction has gone too far, that a certain vital- 
izing force which oral instruction involved has been 



268 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

largely crushed out by the book method, and that the 
teacher should make a strenuous effort to provide more 
and better oral instruction. That the oral method pos- 
sesses some marked advantages over the book method 
is certainly apparent from the briefest study of the 
factors involved. 

(i) It represents the more primitive form of communication. 
Oral language was used for thousands of years before written 
symbols were invented. As President HalP puts it: "The 
short circuit from ear to mouth . . . existed for unknown eons 
before reading and writing," which represent " the long circuit, 
and, biologically, very recent brain-path from eye to hand." 
Written language has never even threatened to replace oral 
language, except in the schools. Its normal function is 
entirely supplementary, and its field is closely restricted to 
the territory that oral speech cannot effectively cover. 

(2) Viewed from the psychophysical standpoint, oral trans- 
miss' n is the more economical of energy. The delicate eye 
movements that reading involves require a finer degree of 
motor coordination, and consequently a more rapid disinte- 
gration of nerve tissue, than the adjustments involved in listen- 
ing. This point is especially important in the lower grades, 
where the capacity for delicate motor coordinations is only 
slightly developed, and where undue strain may result in 
serious and permanent defects of vision. Investigations* have 
shown that practiced readers make from four to five movements 
of the eyes in reading a line of average length, while unprac- 
ticed readers make from two to three times as many move- 
ments in covering the same space. Hence the strain is much 

* Hall : Ideal School, p. 478; cf. Adolescence, vol. ii, pp. 461-462. 

2 B. Erdmann and R. Dodge : Psychologische Untersuchungen ueber 
das Lesen auf experimentelle Grundlage, Halle, 1898, p. 50; also E. B. 
Huey, in American Journal of Psychology, 1899, vol. ix, pp. 574 flf. 



THE MEDIA OF INSTRUCTION 269 

greater with the latter. To require children who have but 
recently acquired the art of reading to read for any great 
length of time is certainly unhygienic. 

(3) It is generally agreed that oral instruction holds the 
attention much better than book instruction. The speaker has 
at his command certain auxiliary means of soliciting attention 
which the writer entirely lacks. He can adapt his words to 
the capacity of his auditors, while the writer must have in mind 
a typical audience, which may or may not materiahze. He 
can take advantage of what might be termed the spirit of the 
occasion. He can bring in local coloring and incidents to 
illustrate his points. He can modulate his voice, emphasizing 
the salient points and minimizing those less saUent, thus pro- 
ducing that variety of stimulation to which the " rise, poise, 
fall " of the attention wave corresponds ; the writer's words 
are practically all upon the same "level." The speaker can, 
moreover, help out his words by gestures and facial expression, 
especially the expression of the eyes ; or, to put it in another 
way, the speaker works in three dimensions, while the writer is 
limited to one. 

As an oflfset to these advantages, the oral method pos- 
sesses, of course, some obvious limitations. Economical 
from the psychophysical standpoint, it is far from eco- 
nomical from a financial standpoint. A man can address 
a million people by writing where he can address a thou- 
sand by speech. Books fulfill an indispensable function, 
and the individual who is ever to become independent 
of direct, personal instruction must learn how to gain 
thought through the printed page. Yet one cannot 
escape the conclusion that oral instruction is, generally 
speaking, the more efficient, and there is no doubt that 



2/0 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

it should be the principal medium of instruction in the 
elementary grades. To quote President Hall ^ again : 
"The child should hve in a world of sonorous speech. 
He should hear and talk for hours each day; and then 
he would lay the foundations for terse and correct Eng- 
lish, and would keep read-writing, as it forever should 
be, subordinate to hearing and speaking. He would 
write as he speaks, and we should escape the abomination 
of bookish talk." 

4. Comparison of Lecture and Question-and-answer 
Instruction. These are two types of oral instruction 
that have found a place in the school, — the lecture method 
and the question-and-answer, or Socratic, method. For 
a long time, the lecture method has dominated the higher 
institutions of learning. In the universities of the Middle 
Ages, before the invention of printing made text-books 
possible, and when the vast numbers^ of students that 
flocked to the centers of learning made anything like 
personal contact between student and instructor out 
of the question, there was no recourse but to the lecture 
method. University life is always ultra-conservative, 
and one need not marvel that the lecture method still 
persists, notwithstanding its admitted pedagogical defi- 
ciencies. 

^ Hall : Ideal School, p. 479. 

2 According to some authorities, the students attending a popular 
mediaeval university sometimes numbered as high as twenty or thirty 
thousand. Cf, S, S. Laurie : Rise and Constitution of Universities, Newr 
York, 1892, p. 155. 



THE MEDIA OF INSTRUCTION 2/1 

Two objections have been urged against the lecture 
method : (a) it offers no scope for active and creative 
effort on the part of the student or pupil; he takes in 
but he does not give out; he accepts judgments and 
trains of reasoning that his instructor has elaborated, 
but he does not have an opportunity or an incentive 
to do much reasoning for himself; in short, the lecture 
method is too exclusively indirect; (b) a second objec- 
tion is based upon the note-taking that the lecture 
method involves, the contention being that the lecture 
frequently degenerates into a mere dictation exercise, the 
instructor reading from his prepared manuscript while 
the student scribbles down the sentences as fast as they 
are uttered.-^ 

Of these two criticisms, the first is probably the more 
damaging.^ At best the student is a comparatively 
passive agent in the lecture process, although it depends 
very largely on the instructor whether he is entirely 
passive. The combination of the lecture with the "quiz" 
raises the lecture method at least to the level of the text- 

^ Cf. C. De Garmo, in Educational Review, 1902, vol. xxiii, pp. 109 ff. 

* Professor O'Shea has made a careful investigation of the work of one 
thousand university graduates teaching in the Wisconsin high schools. 
Of those who made failures in their work, not a few, he finds, can justly 
ascribe such failure to the application of the lecture method to secondary 
instruction. This had been the method that they were familiar with in 
the university, and their first tendency was to lecture to their classes. 
Out of one hundred principals and superintendents who were questioned 
upon this point, eighty-five admitted it to be a very common fault among 
university trained teachers. Cf. M. V. O'Shea, in School Review, 1902, 
vol. X, pp. 778-795. 



2/2 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

book "recitation" in this respect. Furthermore, there 
are certain topics that can be satisfactorily treated only 
by the lecture method, — for example, the first general 
view of a science, or an advanced course giving the out- 
lines of a new and special theory. In the latter case, 
the lecture may be justified on the ground that the mate- 
rial does not exist in book form. In the former case, 
the lecture may be justified on the ground that such 
courses should be given by a person who is thoroughly 
a master of the field; they should also cover the ground 
in a general rather than in a specific way; because of 
the first condition, a large class cannot be cut up into 
sections for individual work, and because of the second 
condition, a detailed "question-and-answer" process 
would require too much time. 

The second criticism is likewise merited, but the dan- 
ger that it points to is not inherent in the lecture method. 
If the student is to make a verbatim transcript of the 
instructor's sentences, he is certainly reducing his share 
of the instruction to useless drudgery. Note-taking, 
however, if it be of the proper sort, is not altogether 
useless. In some measure, it aids in concentrating the 
attention and, unless slavishly verbatim, it introduces an 
element of active thought in that it involves a condensa- 
tion of the instructor's materials. 

Perhaps the best way to obviate the difficulty is for the stu- 
dent to take a few notes during the lecture and at some later 
period expand these into a more elaborate form, — utilizing 



THE MEDIA OF INSTRUCTION 2/3 

the material of the lecture in a way that will involve, perhaps, 
not a little creative effort. This is thoroughly worth while, 
although, like all good things, it may easily be overdone. 
(Witness the barren formalism of many " note-book " normal 
schools.) A large number of courses treated simultaneously in 
this way will give the student so much writing to do that the 
sole virtue of the device — the fact that it may promote inde- 
pendent activity — is likely to be lost. 

The two great advantages of the lecture method as 
compared with the question-and-answer method are 
its definite and systematic character and its economy 
of time. It is especially well adapted to keep the sub- 
ject-matter organized and coherent. This advantage 
is, of course, extremely important in the treatment of 
difficult sciences. 

The question-and-answer, or Socratic, method escapes 
many of the pitfalls of the lecture method, but has one 
or two faults peculiar to itself. Its main virtue is that 
it demands the reciprocal activity of pupil and teacher. 
While it may involve note-taking, this feature will neces- 
sarily occupy a subordinate position and will not, in 
any case, degenerate into a dictation exercise. This 
method is especially well adapted to combine the method 
of development with the method of instruction. The 
combination is known as the "development lesson," 
and its technique will be discussed in Chapters XIX 
and XX. 

The disadvantage of the question-and-answer method 
is its tendency to become discursive, to wander from the 



274 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

point. It requires great skill on the part of the teacher, 
in fact, the art of teaching probably finds its widest scope 
in the application of this method. By the same token, 
it is the pitfall of weak teachers. 

Among some educators there is a superstition that the ques- 
tion-and-answer method is the only true method of instruction. 
This exaggerated view finds expression in the unwillingness to 
impart information in any way save by Socratic questioning. 
Valuable time is spent in attempting to get children to discover 
unimportant truths, under a vague and hazy notion that it 
doesn't matter much what the truth is so long as the child dis- 
covers it for himself; and so anxious is the teacher to have him 
discover it for himself that he spends twenty or thirty minutes 
in a " pumping " process to get a result which could have been 
stated in as many seconds. 

It is this tendency to " beat about the bush " that constitutes 
the most dangerous pitfall of the question-and-answer method. 
Some judgments are not worth developing ; they may better be 
stated as clearly and tersely as possible. The danger of con- 
fusing the pupil with a mass of details is also a source of some 
inadequate results in the application of this method by unskilled 
teachers. If the teacher is himself incapable of keeping system 
and unity in his thinking, he will find that his pupils cannot do 
it for him. 

It is for all these reasons that the question-and-answer method 
is likely to fail most lamentably if the teacher does not make 
adequate preparation for each lesson. Questions must be care- 
fully worked out beforehand and arranged in the proper order, 
so that successive phases of the topic will be developed consecu- 
tively. One cannot trust to the inspiration of the moment 
for this factor. This is true even when the subject of instruc- 
tion is developed over and over again at intervals of a year 
or half year. The teacher who has got beyond the necessity 



THE MEDIA OF INSTRUCTION 2/5 

for a strenuous daily preparation has outlived his professional 
usefulness. 

To summarize : While the question-and-answer method 
is not the only method of imparting instruction, it is 
perhaps the most important, especially in elementary 
education. It can, however, be carried too far, and 
its successful application requires a high degree of skill 
on the part of the teacher. 

5. Comparison of the Relative Values of Different 
Book Methods. While oral instruction possesses some 
marked advantages, it is clear that it is not in itself 
adequate to the needs of education; it must be supple- 
mented by book instruction. The difference between 
text-books, treatises, and monographs has already been 
indicated. It will be remembered that the last named 
is the original record of the investigator and observer 
to whom we owe the fundamental facts and principles 
of any special science. It embodies the judgments 
that he has made upon the basis of direct experience. 
The text-book and the treatise, on the other hand, rep- 
resent syntheses of judgments borrowed from many 
sources. The knowledge that they embody has been 
worked over by a number of different minds and is pre- 
sented in a form very different from that which it first 
assumed. We have now to compare the use of these 
two classes of books as media of instruction. 

It might be argued that, if direct experience is the best 
way in which to gain judgments, the source method, 



2/6 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

representing as it does judgments that are only one 
remove from original concrete experiences, would be the 
next best way. Upon such a presupposition, the ideal 
method in geography would be to lead the child to study 
the first-hand reports of travelers and explorers rather 
than to read accounts that have been compiled from 
these reports. In history, it would seem that the origi- 
nal records, written by actual participators in or observers 
of historical events would form better media of instruction 
than treatises or text-books upon history worked up by 
writers who live at the present time. This general posi- 
tion has been seriously maintained by certain educators 
as applicable even to the work of the elementary school. 
It is doubtless true that the source method has a legiti- 
mate use at all stages of instruction, but it is seriously 
to be doubted whether its function in elementary educa- 
tion should be anything more than supplementary. The 
proper interpretation of source records is a task that 
demands the experience and skill of a specialist. All 
available records must be carefully studied and com- 
pared with a view of determining and accounting for 
individual differences, for no two men see the same thing 
in exactly the same way. The task of the worker in 
source materials is to effect a compromise between con- 
flicting or inconsistent reports, and to do this success- 
fully requires a sifting of evidence that is far beyond the 
capacity of the adult layman, let alone the child. The 
treatise and the text-book may not represent the absolute 



THE MEDIA OF INSTRUCTION 2/7 

truth, but even the poorest specimens represent a closer 
approximation to the truth than the child, with the aid 
of the average teacher, is likely to reach. This does not 
mean, of course, that the child is to give up his rights 
of generalization and inference. It simply means that 
there are some fields where the exercise of these rights 
is out of the question. What the child lacks in any 
case is the historical, or the geographical, or the scien- 
tific perspective. 

What, then, is the field of the source method in the 
elementary school? Certainly source materials may 
be used for illustrative purposes. A contemporary 
account of the battle of Bunker Hill, taken by itself, 
would probably be misleading. But it could not fail, 
if read in connection with an authoritative account drawn 
by an expert hand from all available sources, to add a 
touch of reality and vividness to the total effect. In 
the sam.e way, geographical sources — books of travel, 
records of exploration, consular reports, industrial and 
commercial statistics — may all be used to supplement 
the regular text-book work, but the text should mani- 
festly be the center of the study. It should form the 
outline, the framework, upon which the more complete 
knowledge may be built. 

We may conclude, then, that the text-book is the chief 
medium of book instruction in the elementary school, 
at least, and that here the source method should be 
used, not as a basis for judgment, but to add vividness 



2/8 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

and life to the facts that the text-book presents. The 
great danger that inheres in the use of the text-book 
is the danger of verbaUsm. How this may be combated 
and how the text-book may be used in connection with 
the method of development are questions that must 
be left for later treatment. 

6. (b) Graphic Representation as a Medium of Instruc- 
tion. Besides language, the work of instruction involves 
such media as maps, pictures, models, diagrams, etc. 
Graphic representation in any of these forms attempts 
to reproduce in some measure the features that the visual 
observer would meet in direct experience. It might 
be thought that the photograph would represent the 
most faithful form of reproduction, but this is not neces- 
sarily true. Just as the actual observer will emphasize 
certain features by an act of attention, so the picture 
that represents most faithfully the view of the observer 
will emphasize the characteristics that he emphasizes 
and minimize the characteristics that he neglects. It 
thus follows that, for purposes of instruction, the photo- 
graph may not be so valuable as the drawing. 

The picture, then, may possess an advantage over 
the real situation itself, in that it brings out in strong 
relief the features that instruction would emphasize. 
It relieves (or may relieve) the observer of the task of 
seeking these salient characteristics for himself. The 
picture approaches the diagram accordingly as it per- 
forms this service in greater and greater degree. The 



THE MEDIA OF INSTRUCTION 279 

diagram is a picture that presents only the essentials. 
The non-essentials are left out for clearness' sake. 

The principle that underUes the use of these media 
of instruction is simple enough. Facts, judgments, 
are to be drawn from them just as they are to be drawn 
from actual situations. Practically speaking, they rep- 
resent aggregate ideas which must be solved by the 
judgment process. 

It is safe to say that most teachers derive little aid from the 
pictures that the text-books employ. They look upon them 
merely as means of diversion and amusement. This is a seri- 
ous mistake. The picture should be made an object of study 
in the same manner as the actual situation represented by the 
picture, were the pupils able to face it directly. Take, for 
example, a picture in a geographical text-book, representing 
an elevator at Duluth. If the teacher and his pupils were on 
the docks at Duluth, the situation could easily be turned to 
educational account. In a certain measure the picture may 
be turned to the same account. What is in the elevator? 
Where did the grain come from? How? In what way is 
it handled? Why are the steamers here? Are they loading 
or unloading? Where will the steamers go after they have 
received or discharged their cargoes? 

Pictures, like travel, will avail but little if only the passive 
attention is appealed to. 

If models, maps, and diagrams may be looked upon 
as pictures, with everything left out that might obscure 
the sahent features, they are, as it were, aggregate ideas 
partially worked out and only waiting to be expressed 
in judgment form. Consider, for example, the diagrams 



280 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

representing the connections of fiber tracts in the central 
nervous system. They are not copies of what the micro- 
scope would reveal — as the student quickly discovers 
when he passes from the text-book to the laboratory. 
The same principle applies, however, to the study of 
diagrams and models as would apply if they were the 
actual things themselves. 

Needless to say, the various forms of graphic represen- 
tation are subject to the same limitations as other media 
of indirect education. Just as the working out of judg- 
ments for one's self increases their revival value, so study- 
ing a picture in which all the salient points are not forced 
upon one's attention may involve an element of active 
effort which will increase the value of the process. Need- 
less to say, also, diagrams and models may, with great 
value, be constructed by the pupils themselves. The 
making of an illustrative diagram or model is one form 
of expressing a judgment. 

7. The Media of Emotional Transmission. Concern- 
ing this second large rubric in our outhne, there is space 
to say but little. There is obviously a difference between 
language used for purely intellectual purposes and lan- 
guage used for emotional purposes. Similarly, there 
is a difference between pictures used to represent situa- 
tions that we cannot actually face and pictures that 
rank as works of art. Yet the emotional type, like the 
intellectual type, represents a medium for the trans- 
mission of experience. Just as I assimilate from Nansen's 



THE MEDIA OF INSTRUCTION 28 1 

record of his explorations something of his experiences 
in the far North, so I assimilate from a reading of " Pen- 
dennis " something of Thackeray's experiences with the 
world at large. And just as, in looking at a newspaper 
cut of a battle ship, I have in some measure the experi- 
ence of the man who drew the picture, so in looking upon 
the Sistine Madonna I gain something of Raphael's 
experiences. 

And yet there is a radical difference between these 
two types, notwithstanding their similarity of function. 
If I had been with Nansen and if I had had an adequate 
scientific training, I could have seen about the same 
things that he describes. And if I had been with the 
newspaper illustrator as he drew the picture of the battle 
ship, I could have seen it practically as he saw it. But 
I might have lived side by side with Thackeray during 
his entire life and missed the subtle observations with 
which " Pendennis " charms us ; and even though I had 
seen Raphael at work upon his masterpiece, even though 
the models which he used were before my eyes, I could 
not have seen in those models what Raphael saw. 

The media of intellectual transmission and the media 
of emotional transmission stand, then, upon diflferent 
levels. The latter transmit experiences, not with situa- 
tions as they would appeal to any man of average intelli- 
gence, but with situations as they would appeal to the 
artist, the poet, the seer, — with sensuous materials it 
is true, but sensuous materials tinged by an emotional, 



282 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

a personal, coloring. The essential characteristic of 
intellectual transmission is its constancy, its invaria- 
bility. It represents what the average man would see 
under similar conditions. The essence of emotional 
transmission is its inconstancy, its ultravariabihty. 
It represents what only one man in a million, perhaps 
one man in a hundred million, would experience. This 
is the difference between scientific exposition and Utera- 
ture, between photography and art. 

8. It has been pointed out above ^ that emotional 
experiences function in two important ways: (a) they 
form the essential ingredients of ideals ; and (b) they 
lie at the basis of the sentiments or the higher forms 
of pleasure. This dichotomy furnishes the cue for the 
educational interpretation of art. All forms of artistic 
expression are media for the transmission of emotional 
experiences. In teaching literature, music, and similar 
subjects, one is apt to overlook this fact and to apply the 
methods that one would apply in the teaching of geogra- 
phy and grammar. It is not uncommon to see a class in 
the upper grades or in the high school "studying" classic 
literature for facts, criticising it upon a factual basis, 
subjecting it to the indignity of paraphrase and condensa- 
tion, and treating it in general as they would a text-book. 
If the great pictures are not abused in the same way, it is 
because the picture does not lend itself so readily to this 
formal and curriculized treatment. 

1 See chs. xiii and xiv, above. 



THE MEDIA OF INSTRUCTION 283 

Yet it is not uncommon to see a "picture lesson" in the 
elementary school devoted to bringing out a few facts about 
the artist, data as to where the picture was painted, where the 
original is kept, how much it is worth, and numberless other 
bits of information — valuable, no doubt, in a way, but utterly 
insignificant in comparison with the revelation that the picture 
has in store for one who can understand and appreciate. 

Still more reprehensible is that " analytic " study of a great 
picture which merely attempts to enumerate the objects rep- 
resented. The writer has heard the following questions asked 
concerning Millet's " Gleaners " : How many women do you 
find in the picture ? How many horses ? What else do you see 
in the picture ? etc. In a language book intended for use in 
the fourth grade, the following questions appear with reference 
to the same picture : " In the foreground are three peasant 
women ; what are they doing ? Describe their dress and tell 
how they carry the gathered grain. For what do you think they 
will use the grain when gathered ? How will it be stored ? For 
whom do you think they are working ? " Most of these questions 
certainly add nothing to one's appreciation of Millet's art, and as 
far as useful information is concerned, they fall far below the 
standard of the teacher who used this picture to draw a lesson on 
the superiority of the " self-binder " of our Western wheat fields 
over the primitive harvesting methods of the European peasantry ! 

9. The mission of art is not to instruct in the intellec- 
tual sense of the term, but rather to please, to reveal, and 
to inspire. It transmits experiences of the emotional 
order, and the only way in which it can fulfill its function 
is by infusing into the individual something of the spirit 
that moved the artist to its creation. In other words, 
the media of emotional transmission must be met with 
an emotional interpretation. 



CHAPTER XIX 

Typical Forms of Development and Instruction: 
(a) The Inductive Development Lesson 

1. The principles that have been developed in the 
preceding chapters have much to do in determining the 
form of the various school exercises. Those exercises 
that have form and structure may be termed, generi- 
cally, "lessons." Fundamental differences in form imply 
fundamental differences in function, and successful 
teaching is conditioned in no small degree upon an ade- 
quate understanding of the structure and functions of 
typical lessons. The following classification will serve 
as a basis for the subsequent discussion : — 

(i) The Development Lesson. 

(a) The Inductive Development Lesson. 
(f) The Deductive Development Lesson. 

(2) The Study Lesson. 

(3) The Recitation Lesson. 

(4) The Drill Lesson. 

(5) The Review Lesson. 

(6) The Examination. 

2. The Development Lesson. The function of the 
development lesson is to lead the pupil to the formation 
of a concept or judgment through a process which shall, 
as far as possible, utiHze the direct method. When it 
is necessary to use the indirect lAethod, questions and 
answers are employed rather than lectures. 

284 



THE INDUCTIVE DEVELOPMENT LESSON 285 

There are two distinct varieties of the development 
lesson: (a) the inductive, which develops (i) concepts 
from particular experiences, (2) particular judgments 
or facts from concrete aggregates, and (3) general judg- 
ments or principles from particular judgments; and 
(b) the deductive, which develops particular judgments 
from more general judgments. Neither of these classes 
is necessarily exclusive of the other; that is, in one and 
the same lesson, one may use both inductive and deduc- 
tive processes. The terms simply indicate the general 
character of typical lessons. One may be inductive 
as a whole and yet employ deductive processes in places; 
another may be deductive as a whole and yet employ 
inductive processes in places. 

3. The Inductive Development Lesson. This type of 
lesson has been thoroughly worked out by the followers 
of Herbart upon the principles laid down by Herbart 
himself. In its present well-organized form, it is an 
organic unity made up of a number of articulated parts 
known as "formal steps." That is, the inductive devel- 
opment lesson falls into a number of logical subdivisions, 
each with a specific function to fulfill in promoting the 
purpose of the lesson as a whole. 

Herbart^ originally suggested four steps: (i) clearness, 
(2) association, (3) system, (4) method. By the step of 
clearness, he meant the grasping of separate details, one by 

1 J. F. Herbart : Schriften zur P'ddagogik, Leipzig, 1 85 1, Pt. i, pp. 49- 
51; English trans., Science of Education, Felkin, Boston, 1896, pp. 126 fl 



286 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

one. In our own terminology it represents the first analysis 
of the aggregate idea. At this stage, mind differentiates par- 
ticulars, and views each of them in and for itself. 

In the step of association, mind passes from the individual 
or particular elements, thus isolated, to the discovery of conv 
mon quaUties or relations which bind the isolated elements 
together. 

System is an orderly reconstruction of the elements upon the 
basis of the relations discovered. In our terminology it rep- 
resents the solution of the aggregate — the formation of a judg- 
ment. Herbart very distinctly points out that the relations are 
not present in one's first perception of an aggregate, but come 
out only in the process of division and recombination. 

Method is the application of the judgment thus formed to 
new situations. It is the supreme test, as it were, of the whole 
process. In his own rather obscure way, Herbart laments the 
fact that, after judgments are formed, they are seldom used. 
" Method," he says,^ " is for most men merely a name that 
they have learned. Their thinking hovers uncertainly between 
abstraction and determination. They follow sense-stimuli in- 
stead of relations. They associate similarities and rhyme thing 
with concept." 

The formal steps, as thus suggested by Herbart, are 
seen to be a fairly accurate description of the v^ay in 
which mind goes to work to form judgments. As noted 
above, the formation of a judgment involves a process 
of analysis, of comparison and abstraction, and of gen- 
eralization. The formal steps, as they have been worked 
out by Herbart's followers, usually employ these terms 
in place of clearness, association, and system. Appli- 
cation is also substituted for method. Herbart's schema 

^ Herbart, op. cit., p. 51; English trans., p. 128. 



THE INDUCTIVE DEVELOPMENT LESSON 287 

has been modified in other respects, but mainly in the 
manner of ampHfication, so that the structure of the de- 
velopment lesson as it stands to-day follows, in the main, 
Herbart's original outline. 

The principal changes may be briefly noted. Ziller ^ recog- 
nized that an aggregate is not made up entirely of perceptual 
material, but that, connected with every situation that we face, 
we have certain predispositions with which experience has pro- 
vided us. Therefore the aggregate is always partially percep- 
tual, partially ideal. Ziller maintains that it is necessary to 
discriminate in the work of instruction between these two 
phases. He, therefore, divides the first step (clearness) into 
two parts : (i) preparation, which is concerned with the work- 
ing of old experiences to which the new are related, and 
(2) presentation, which is concerned with the new material. 

Rein'^ adds a substep which he calls the statement of the aim, 
and which, according to his view, should precede the step of 
preparation. There are good reasons, however, for placing it 
at the close of the first step. 

The structure of the Herbartian development lesson, 
as it stands to-day, may be briefly outlined as follows : — 

First Step . . . Preparation 

Substep . . . Statement of the Aim 

Second Step . . . Presentation 

Third Step . . . Comparison and Abstraction 

Fourth Step . . . Generalization 

Fifth Step . . . Application 

1 T. Ziller : Grundlegung zur Lehre vom erziehenden Unterricht, Leip- 
zig, 1884; see C. De Garmo: Her bar t and the Herbartians, New York, 
1896, pp. 103 ff. 

*W. Rein: Ouilifus 0/ Pedagogics, SyrzcMse, lSg$. (English trans.) 



288 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

The numerous books treating of these formal steps — 
especially the excellent treatises of De Garmo/ the Mc- 
Murrys,^ and Rein ^ — would make their detailed con- 
sideration superfluous in this place. We shall therefore 
limit ourselves to a brief description of each step, attempt- 
ing especially to show in what manner its structure and 
function are related to the principles already discussed. 

4. (i) The Step of Preparation. The purpose of the 
preparation is to revive whatever ideas the pupil may 
already have in his possession regarding the topic to be 
treated. These ideas may be and probably are more 
or less vague and inaccurate. They may have been 
gained from a multitude of different sources — from 
concrete experience, from books, from the conversation 
of the home, from previous school work. Whatever 
their character or source, however, the only condition 
that they must fulfill in order to be admitted as part of 
the preparation is this : Are they pertinent to the matter 
in hand? 

It follows from this that the preparation is not neces- 
sarily a review of the work done at the preceding lesson; 
indeed, it may include material that has never been men- 
tioned in class before. From the standpoint of apper- 
ception, the step of preparation is the making explicit of 
all apperceptive systems that may operate in assimilating 



^ C. De Garmo: Essentials of Method, Boston, 1889. 

* C. A. and F. M. McMurry: Method of the Recitation, New York, 1903. 

• Rein, op, ciL 



THE INDUCTIVE DEVELOPMENT LESSON 289 

the new experience. It attempts to give the pupil 
the appropriate attitude or adjustment toward the new 
situation. 

Suppose, for example, that the lesson has for its object the 
development of the principle that vapor condenses with a fall 
of temperature. The preparation would naturally involve the 
expHcit revival of those experiences that the pupil has had 
touching this phenomenon. That is, he has had certain expe- 
riences in which the phenomenon was implicit, but not explicit. 
He has seen the vapor from his expired breath condense upon 
the window pane. He has seen the vapor from the teakettle 
condense on reaching the cold air. If he lives in a moun- 
tainous country, he has seen rain or snow falling upon the 
mountains when it did not fall in the valley. The teacher now 
directs his attention to these experiences without telling him, 
perhaps, what he is to do with them. 

Or, suppose the object of the lesson to be the development 
of the definition of the adverb. The preparation in this case 
may well review the definitions of other parts of speech already 
studied, with especial emphasis upon the adjective and verb. 
If the concept clause is to be developed, the stage of prepara- 
tion will bring again to the pupil's mind the concepts simple 
modifier and phrase modifier. 

It goes without saying that the dominant method 
of this step is that of questions and answers. The teacher 
is to draw out the desired experiences by means of well- 
directed questions that will suggest rather than tell. 

In the first illustration cited above, the teacher may intro- 
duce the lesson somewhat in this way : " What happens when 
you blow your breath against a cold window pane ? At what 
other times have you seen * steam ' gather on window panes ? 
u 



290 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

Are the kitchen windows covered with steam every time the 
washing is done? On what kind of days have you noticed 
that this doesn't happen? " etc. 

For the development of the adverb, the questions will prob- 
ably be rather more formal. For example : " Point out the 
verb in this sentence. Define a verb. Point out the adjec- 
tive. Why is it an adjective? What word does it modify? 
What do you mean by modify 7 " 

The time that the first step occupies should be brief. 
The tendency of the teacher is generally to draw it out 
to an unjustifiable duration. A general rule may per- 
haps be laid down that the step of preparation should 
occupy not more than one fifth of the time allotted to the 
entire lesson. This rule would not hold, of course, 
if the development were entirely concerned with work- 
ing over old experiences. A development lesson of the 
inductive type may be entirely concerned with old mate- 
rials, involving the presentation of no new matter what- 
soever, and the object being to " digest" the old experiences 
and recast them in judgment form. In such cases, the 
revival of the old experiences may well occupy a much 
larger fraction of the recitation period than has just been 
allotted. 

The danger to be guarded against is wandering from the 
point. In all forms of the question-and-answer method, it is 
easy to let the discussion run into irrelevant channels. This is 
a doubly serious -source of danger where the pupils do not 
know what the questions are leading up to, as is the case in 
the preparatory step. 



THE INDUCTIVE DEVELOPMENT LESSON 29 1 

5. (i a) The Statement 0} the Aim. McMurry ^ has 
the following to say in discussing the function of the 
aim: "A good aim becomes a standard both to the chil- 
dren and to the teacher for judging the worth of the 
contributions by the former. Since this first step is 
necessarily conversational, there is always danger that 
the conversation will degenerate into a conversation 
that aims at nothing and accomplishes nothing. But 
when all are conscious of a fixed aim, reference to it by 
the teacher or pupils will determine whether or not a 
certain thought is worth their attention." 

Our conception of the function of the aim differs 
slightly from that of McMurry. The step of prepara- 
tion makes explicit the apperceptive systems that are 
to operate in assimilating the new material. The aim 
should show the need of the new material from the pupil's 
standpoint. Both the preparation and the statement 
of the aim combine to fulfill the conditions of appercep- 
tion. The aim really forms the connecting link between 
the old and the new, and this seems to indicate that the 
appropriate place for it is at the end of the preparatory 
step rather than at the beginning. Of course there will 
be exceptions to this rule in practice. It may sometimes 
be expedient to state the aim at the very beginning of 
the lesson. Especially would this be the case if the 
lesson is concerned with working up old materials exclu- 
sively. 

* McMurrj, 0/. »V., p. 112. 



292 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

Put in another way, the function of the statement 
of the aim may be said to be twofold: (i) to center the 
minds of the pupils upon the problem in hand, and 
(2) to arouse their "interest" in the new matter to be 
presented. The first phase demands that the aim be 
definite and pertinent. It should state as clearly as 
possible the point that the lesson is intended to make. 
This does not mean that the conclusion of the lesson — 
the generalization — is to be stated formally as the aim. 
If it were, it would be meaningless to the pupils. The 
generalization is intrinsically and necessarily an abstract 
statement. The aim, if it is to fulfill the second condi- 
tion named above, must be concrete. It should, as has 
been said, relate the forthcoming subject-matter to the 
needs of the child; that is, it should seize upon some 
need and show how it may he satisfied. 

For example, in the lesson upon the condensation of vapor, 
it may be assumed that the preparatory, informal conversation 
concerning various well-known phenomena of condensation 
will have aroused in the pupils a curiosity to know the cause 
of these phenomena. The preparation will not have fulfilled 
its function if some such result has not been gained. The aim 
should then be so stated that the pupils will understand that 
the following steps are leading up to an explanation of this 
thing that puzzles them. Thus the aim may take some such 
form as this, " To-day we shall try to find out why the * steam ' 
gathers when we breathe upon a cold window pane, and why 
the * steam ' forms at the mouth of the tea-kettle." 

Similarly, in the lesson on the adverb, the preparation should 
have brought out the facts (i) that the adjective is one form of 



THE INDUCTIVE DEVELOPMENT LESSON 293 

modifier, and that it makes clearer the meaning of the noun or 
pronoun, and (2) that no method of making clearer the meaning 
of the verb has yet been discussed. "The adjective makes 
clearer the meaning of the noun ; is there a class of words that 
will help the verb in a similar manner? " 

McMurry ^ very properly emphasizes brevity and 
attractiveness as essential features of a good aim. It 
goes without saying that a long and involved aim defeats 
its own purpose in that it fails to concentrate the pupil's 
attention and arouse his interest. For the same reason, 
the aim should be attractive and couched in simple and, 
as far as possible, non-technical terms. 

6. (2) The Step of Presentation. The purpose of the 
step of presentation is to impart the new experiences 
from which the generalization or judgment is to be de- 
rived. These may be either concrete experiences from 
which facts are to be discovered and then worked up 
into generalizations, or they may be particular judg- 
ments — facts themselves — given by the indirect method. 

The treatment of the condensation of vapor will furnish an 
illustration of the former type. A few simple experiments may 
be performed in class. The pupils may breathe upon warm 
and cold surfaces, and note the results. They may watch the 
boiling of a kettle, noting the fact that the cloudiness is not 
apparent until the steam has reached a certain distance be- 
yond the spout. They may note the gathering of moisture on 
the outer surface of a pitcher of ice water. In general, the aim 
will be to give as many particular instances of condensation 
as possible, and to arrange the examples so that the relation 
1 McMurry, op. cit,, pp. 109 f. 



294 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

between the fall of temperature and the phenomenon of 
condensation will be readily perceived. Each case is to be 
observed carefully in and for itself, and the results of each 
observation should be formulated in a judgment which may, 
perhaps, be written upon the blackboard. This should be 
done, at any rate, whenever the number of particular judg- 
ments is large. 

In the lesson on adverbs, the facts will be brought out by a 
study of sentences containing adverbs. In such a procedure, 
each sentence becomes a center for observation, just as the 
separate experiments were in the former illustration. Either 
the sentences may be written upon the blackboard with blank 
spaces which the pupils are asked to fill in with words that 
make the meaning of the verb clearer, or the teacher may 
write complete sentences containing adverbs, from which the 
pupils, having disposed of the other words, may be led to see 
that the adverb does for the verb what the adjective does for 
the noun. 

Where graphic representations — pictures, maps, mod- 
els — are used in place of real objects, the method 
does not materially differ. Thus, in the study of geog- 
raphy, it may be desired to build up the judgment that 
deltas are formed at the mouths of rivers entering in- 
closed seas or gulfs rather than at the mouths of rivers 
entering the open ocean. The pupil discovers the par- 
ticular facts concerning each delta from the map, pre- 
cisely as he would from the actual situations if he had 
the opportunity. From a series of pictures representing 
types of different races, the leading physical characteristics 
of the various races may be inductively determined just as 
they could from a study of the types themselves. The 



THE INDUCTIVE DEVELOPMENT LESSON 295 

same holds for such development work as the determina- 
tion of the zones by use of models representing the sun 
and earth. 

In all these cases the pupils discover the facts for 
themselves, as well as search out the relations between 
facts upon which the generalization is based. In the 
case of facts that are given indirectly, the step of presen- 
tation is usually concerned with the imparting of such 
facts either by a lecture or through the text-book, and 
their illustration by as many concrete references as pos- 
sible. In the case of the text-book, the presentation 
is usually covered in the "study period." In such an 
event, the preparation and the statement of the aim are 
involved in the assignment, while the recitation proper 
is given over to the comparison and generalization- This 
type of lesson is frequently employed in the inductive 
study of history. Here the pupils become acquainted 
with the facts before the recitation period, and this period 
is then devoted to a discussion of the facts. Thus the 
preliminary study lesson becomes the step of presentation 
in the development lessono 

The method of the step is, therefore, either direct or 
indirect, according as the facts are discovered by the 
pupil himself or gained indirectly through a lecture, 
text-book, or some other medium of instruction. In 
the former case, there is still something of the indirect 
method, for the attention of the pupils must be directed 
by carefully put questions to the points that are espe- 



296 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

dally to be observed; and some things will, of course, 
be told outright. 

While organization is obviously the factor upon which one 
must mainly depend in all forms of development work, the 
concrete experiences with which the step of presentation fre- 
quently deals may also function in practical judgment. Hence, 
it is always well to give these experiences the added advantage 
of vividness. 

The time to be allotted to this step varies much more 
than in the step of preparation. Where the presentation 
has been covered by the previous study lesson, it is neces- 
sary only to recall the facts as briefly and concisely as 
possible. When concrete materials are being studied, 
however, it will be necessary to devote a large fraction 
of the total time to the presentation — perhaps in some 
cases as much as one half. Obviously this step should 
be the last to be hurried. Upon the wealth and vividness 
of the details the value of the judgment will depend, 
and to hurry over the presentation will be simply to 
encourage hasty and inadequate generalization. 

7. (3) The Step of Comparison and Abstraction. This 
forms the important transition from the details into 
which the aggregate has been analyzed to the recon- 
struction of the aggregate in the judgment. In practice, 
the step of comparison frequently fuses with the step 
of presentation, inasmuch as attention to the details 
can hardly fail to emphasize the points of resemblance 
and difference. Ordinarily, however, it is well to dis- 



THE INDUCTIVE DEVELOPMENT LESSON 297 

criminate between the two steps in practice as well as 
in theory. As the terms sufficiently indicate, the func- 
tion of this step is to make explicit the relations which 
individual facts or particular experiences bear to one 
another. 

In the lesson on the condensation of vapor, after the con- 
crete cases have been presented, the facts that they reveal 
must be compared with one another. If the individual judg- 
ments have been placed upon the blackboard, these may be 
referred to. In any case, questions will be asked to bring 
out the saUent points : " Do we find that breathing on a win- 
dow pane always results in the formation of * steam ' ? When 
does it and when does it not? Where does the water come 
from that thus forms upon the pane ? Why do we not see it 
ordinarily in the expired breath ? Are there any cases other 
than those that we have described in which it becomes visible? 
We found that moisture sometimes forms on the outside of a 
cold pitcher ; where does this come from ? Under what con- 
ditions does it appear ? Why do we not see it in the air ordi- 
narily? Can we ever see it in the air? What did you notice 
about the steam that came from the kettle? What do you 
think it looked like in the ketde? If it was not cloudy in the 
kettle and did not become cloudy until it was some distance 
from the spout, how can we explain the cloudiness?" Having 
brought out the fact that, in every case, the invisible moisture 
becomes visible only when the temperature falls, the relation 
may be made even more expUcit by one or two general ques- 
tions : "What, then, can you say about the appearance, of 
moisture in all these cases? Sum up the results of our study 
of these different cases." 

The step of comparison in the lesson on adverbs may be 
similarly conducted. In the presentation, attention has been 
called to a new class of words. " What do all these words that 



298 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

we have just pointed out do ? Are they like any other class of 
words that we have studied ? How ? In what respect do they 
differ from adjectives? Look at them again; in what respect 
does the first one help the verb? the second?" and so on, — 
the examples having been supplied to illustrate place, time, and 
manner of action. 



It will be noted that the relations are to be sought, 
not only between the different elements of the new mate- 
rial, but also between the new and the old. This comes 
out particularly in the lesson on the adverb. In the 
treatment of grammar, the procedure is steadily pro- 
gressive, the various parts of speech being developed 
with reference to one another and working together 
to form a completed whole, the sentence. In such a 
case, the development of a new form involves a great 
deal of contrast and comparison with forms previously 
developed. Adjectives and adverbs can be explained 
only by nouns and verbs, phrases must needs be related 
to single words, etc. 

The method of this step is predominantly direct, the 
indirect operating as before, through questions and 
answers, to help out the thought processes of the pupils. 
The constant aim should be to let the child discover 
relations as far as possible for himself. Each relation 
should come to him with the full force of a fresh and 
original discovery. 

This last point implies that the time allotted to this 
step should be sufficient to insure the discovery of the 



THE INDUCTIVE DEVELOPMENT LESSON 299 

relations by the pupils rather than their revelation by 
the teacher. This suggests the danger of trying to ac- 
comphsh too much in a single development. Gener- 
ally speaking, one judgment or generalization is all 
that should be attempted, and even this may have to 
be extended over two or three periods, — to-day's lesson 
being devoted to the preparation and presentation, to- 
morrow's to the comparison and generalization; but 
as a rule this splitting-up of the development should be 
avoided as far as possible. The lesson is a time unity 
as well as a thought unity, and any breaking up of the 
time element tends to disintegrate the thought. If 
possible, then, the various steps should be so adjusted 
to one another as to permit the completion of the lesson 
in a single period. It is perhaps well to make the presen- 
tation and comparison the standards of division, for 
these steps will generally require the largest share of the 
period — sometimes as much as three fourths, sometimes 
even more. 

8. (4) The Step of Generalization. This step covers 
the formulation of the judgment as a definition, rule, 
principle, law, or proposition. It is the final reconstruc- 
tion of the materials of the original aggregate, — the 
capstone of the development process. According as 
the preliminary steps have been pursued faithfully or 
carelessly, the conclusion will be natural or forced. 
The ideal lesson will take the pupils so gradually through 
the various steps that they will reach the conclusion 



300 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

almost before they are aware of it. The generahzation 
will almost formulate itself. 

The method of this step should be direct. To the 
pupil belongs the right of formulating the judgment 
in which the net results of the lesson shall be summed 
up ; and this for no sentimental reason, but because 
the act of formulation contributes not a httle to the re- 
vival value of the judgment. It will be difficult to get 
the pupil to do this at the outset, and the teacher will 
be strongly tempted to make the generalization for him. 
But here as elsewhere patient and persistent work will 
tell in the end. For a long time, the results will be dis- 
couragingly crude. The teacher will frequently have 
to reconstruct the language before the judgment can 
be left. But the effort should always be to reduce this 
interference to a minimum. 

In lorm the generahzation should be brief. The 
greatest economy of words consistent with absolute 
clarity of meaning should be the objective point. The 
necessity for concreteness and simplicity of statement is 
not so pronounced here as in the aim. If technical terms 
have been developed, they may be and should be freely 
used. The virtue of a technical term is that its use sub- 
serves economy of expression ; being unequivocal, it does 
not require a host of explanatory terms to make its mean- 
ing clear. Care should be taken, however, to preserve 
simplicity of construction. Three or four short sentences 
are better than one long complex or compound sentence. 



THE INDUCTIVE DEVELOPMENT LESSON 3OI 

The time allotted to this step should also be brief. 
With a class that is new to the development method, 
it will necessarily be longer than with a class that has 
had some drill in the accurate and concise forms of 
thought that the method involves, but at no time should 
the step cover more than three or four minutes.-^ 

We have said that the aim should show the pupil the 
need of the solution which the succeeding steps attempt 
to supply. Consequently the generaHzation should, 
in a measure, be an answer to the question raised in the 
statement of the aim. 

In the lesson on condensation, the aim was stated in this 
way, " To-day we shall find out why the ' steam ' gathers when 
we breathe upon a cold window pane, and why the cloud of 
steam forms at the mouth of the teakettle." The generaliza- 
tion of this lesson might be expressed in this way : " Air may 
contain water in an invisible form known as vapor. When the 
air is cooled, the water becomes visible, forming a cloud made 
up of a large number of minute drops. This process is called 
condensation." The way is now clear for another lesson on 
precipitation. 

In the development of the adverb, the generalization would 
take the form of a definition, " An adverb is a word used to 
modify a verb by answering one of the questions. How? When? 
Where?" A later lesson could then expand the definition to 
cover the modification of adjectives and other adverbs. 

9. (5) The Step of Application. We have pointed 
out that the generalization represents the solution of an 

1 McMurry's remarks upon this point are exceptionally good. Op, «V., 
pp. 198 ff. 



302 TttE EDUCAtlVE PROCESS 

aggregate and the reconstruction of its materials in 
judgment form. We have also seen that, while the 
judgment represents the solution of a present aggregate, 
it may be preserved and applied to future situations. 
This process is begun in the step of application. The 
rule, or the law, or the definition, is worked back to par- 
ticular facts. 

In the lesson on condensation, the step of application might 
well be devoted to an explanation of certain processes of con- 
densation not noted in the previous steps, — the formation of 
clouds, for example. This would fit in very well with the fol- 
lowing lesson on precipitation. Indeed, the two steps, gener- 
alization and application, might form the preparatory step of 
this succeeding lesson. 

In the case of the adverb, the step of application would 
naturally concern itself with the identification of adverbs in 
given sentences. This in turn would prepare the pupil for a 
succeeding lesson on the extension of the definition to cover 
the modification of adjectives and adverbs. 

In arithmetic, if a rule has been developed inductively, the 
step of application would involve the working of problems 
coming under the rule. 

It will be readily seen that the time to be occupied 
in the apphcation will be extremely variable. Gener- 
ally, perhaps, the entire step will be covered by seat 
work, only a few suggestions and hints being given at 
the close of the recitation period. Sometimes an entirely 
new lesson will be given up to the application. This 
may, in itself, become a development lesson of the deduc- 
tive order. Occasionally the step of application will 



THE INDUCTIVE DEVELOPMENT LESSON 303 

occupy a share of the time allotted to the inductive lesson 
proper. It is safe to say, however, that the applica- 
tion in some form should always follow the generahza- 
tion. The pupil should learn from the start that knowl- 
edge as it exists in the form of laws, principles, rules, or 
definitions is utterly valueless, unless, directly or in- 
directly, it can be carried over into the field of practice. 

10. One truth that the foregoing discussion reveals 
is that the inductive development lesson is an organic 
whole. Each of the formal steps has its specific function 
to fulfill in promoting the purpose of the entire lesson, 
just as each organ of the body has its function to fulfill 
in subserving the general function of the body as a whole. 
In the light of this principle, every question, every state- 
ment that the lesson involves, should form an integral 
part of the unified structure. No question should be 
asked, no statement should be made, merely for the pur- 
pose of filhng in time or reviewing irrelevant knowledge. 

And just as each step and each division of each step 
are integral parts of the "lesson unity," so the "lesson 
unity" is an integral part of the unit of subject-matter. 
Condensation and precipitation are subdivisions of a 
broader topic, — physiography. Adverbs and adjectives 
are integral units in the general subject of grammar. 
The task of the teacher is so to arrange the subject- 
matter that the lesson unities will follow one another 
naturally, and so lead the pupil to the gradual and orderly 
unfolding of the entire subject. 



304 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

II. But not all the laws, principles, and definitions 
with which the pupil must become familiar are amenable 
to treatment by the inductive method. Many must 
be given outright; others are to be derived deductively 
from still larger principles. The error of the Herbar- 
tians ^ has been to assume that the formal steps repre- 
sent the sum total of the technique of teaching. Such 
an assumption is both illogical and impractical. The 
inductive development lesson has but a limited field of 
application. It is useful in the development of some 
laws, principles, rules, and definitions on the basis of 
particular facts. But some lessons have to do, not with 
rules or principles or definitions, but with the particular 
facts themselves. Other lessons have to do with moral 
and aesthetic truths that cannot be reduced to the induc- 
tive form. Still others have to do with the formation of 
habits — with the making of processes automatic. It 
is safe to say that the last-named type of lesson is far 
more important in the actual work of teaching, especially 
in the elementary grades, than either the inductive or 
the deductive development lesson. 

^ Cf. Rein, op. cit., p. 187, "Because of their formal nature, the formal 
steps of the recitation have a universal application." 



CHAPTER XX 

Typical Forms of Development and Instruction: 
(b) The Deductive Development Lesson 

I. The inductive development lesson is concerned 
with the formation of principles, definitions, rules, and 
laws upon the basis of individual facts. The deductive 
lesson works in the opposite direction — from principles 
back to facts or less general principles. Its function is either 
(a) to anticipate experience by means of inferei^ces^om 
general principles, or (6)Tb~explainor rationalize partic- 
ular facts upon the basis of general principles. In the 
one case, it looks forward to the solutiooToTa possible situ- 
ation ; in the other, it brings particular existing situations 
under the realm of law, representing the solution of an 
aggregate by the application of experience in the form of 
a conceptual judgment which has previously been worked 
out and stored away for just such an occasion. 

The deductive lesson is typified by the step of application 
in the inductive lesson. It frequently happens, however, that 
the fact to be explained or rationalized does not present itself 
at the time that the principle is developed. In the study of 
geography, for example, the principles governing climate are 
usually developed early in the course of the grammar school. 
Throughout the remainder of the course, these principles are 

X 305 



306 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

being constantly applied to explain the climate of particulai 
regions. In arithmetic, too, principles are first developed on 
the basis of particular cases, and then applied to a multitude 
of specific problems. 

2. The form of the deductive lesson has not been worked 
out so thoroughly as that of the inductive; largely, per- 
haps, because the latter has been held to have universal 
validity. Nevertheless, the deductive development les- 
son merits the attention of the student of method, for, 
as a type, it is probably more frequently represented in 
the work of the school than the inductive form. 

The teaching of geography in the upper grades might be 
said to make almost exclusive use of this type of lesson. In 
all the larger text-books there is an introductory treatment of 
physiography, designed to develop principles that m.ay be used 
later in deductive lessons. Take, for example, the treat- 
ment of the climate of the Andes region. Under the old 
"telling" method, one or two paragraphs would cover the 
climatic conditions of the entire region. This would be " set " 
as a lesson, and the pupils would master it, usually through the 
factor of repetition. Under the development method, on the 
contrary, the pupils are led to apply to the particular region 
under consideration the general principles of climate, and, 
upon this basis, to infer what its climate will probably be. 
Reference is then made to the text-book, or to some other 
source, for verification of the inference. If a discrepancy is 
discovered, it will be clear that a fallacy has crept into the 
process of inference, and the problem will be to locate this 
fallacy and reconstruct the argument to fit the facts. 

3. This method of deductive development will take 
longer than the "telling" method, but it will possess some 



THE DEDUCTIVE DEVELOPMENT LESSON 307 

important advantages over the latter, (i) It introduces 
the factor of organization; the detailed facts are no 
longer disconnected, but are joined together in a rational 
system, disclosing causal relations. (2) It makes mean- 
ingful the principles that have previously been mastered ; 
if these principles are not used in this vi^ay, it has been 
an obvious waste of time to develop them. (3) It sup- 
plies a motive for searching out empirical evidence for 
the inferences made, and therefore makes intelligible the 
use of text-book and source materials. (4) It brings 
into the service of education the "puzzle" instinct; this 
has always been the secret of the pleasure that most 
pupils take in the work of arithmetic; there is no reason 
why other subjects of instruction should not be similarly 
benefited. (5) It opens the way — reveals the need — 
for further study upon the same basis. 

In respect of the last point, geography may again be cited 
as an example. Climate and surface determine productions, 
productions plus location and facilities for communication de- 
termine occupations, occupations plus productions and surface 
features determine commerce, commerce determines centers 
of population. Thus, armed with a few general principles, the 
entire geography of a certain region may be developed infer- 
entially upon the basis of a few data, most of which may be 
gathered from a careful inspection of the map. The develop- 
ment of each new topic paves the way for the next — creates a 
need for the next. 

(6) Finally this deductive process amplifies and ex- 
tends the inductive process; every fresh appHcation of 



308 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

a principle widens its scope and gives it a still firmer 
foundation ; in fact, insures still more strongly its general 
validity. 

4. There are two types of the deductive development, 
each corresponding to one of the functions mentioned 
above. We may term these (i) the anticipatory type, 
and (2) the explanatory type. Each type presents four 
phases, corresponding, in a degree, to the formal steps 
of the inductive lesson: (i) the data, (2) the principles, 
(3) the inference or conclusion, and (4) the verification. 
We shall examine these briefly, first with reference to 
the anticipatory type. 

(i) The Data. These are the facts with which we start. 
Taking the lesson on the climate of the Andes region as an 
example, it is clear that a study of the map will reveal certain 
salient facts concerning the position and extent of this region 
which may be brought out by questioning : What is the gen- 
eral direction of the Andes system? Between what parallels 
of latitude? What zones are represented in this extent? 
Where is the highland the widest? Approximately how wide 
at this point? Where narrowest? Compare the eastern and 
western slopes. Are the valleys high or low? Narrow or 
broad? What do we term a high, broad valley? 

Having completed this preliminary map study, the next step 
will be to impress other data that are essential to a study of 
the climate. The altitude of the principal ridges and plateaus 
may be told by the teacher or gathered from text-books or 
sources. Having these various facts in mind, the next step 
will be to review the — 

(2) Principles. What four general conditions govern cli- 
mate? (Latitude, altitude, distance from the sea, prevailing 



THE DEDUCTIVE DEVELOPMENT LESSON 309 

winds.) What is the general effect of latitude upon climate? 
Of altitude ? In what ratio does increase in altitude lower the 
temperature? (Approximately 3° for every 1000 feet.) How 
does the neighborhood of large bodies of water affect climate ? 
Under what conditions? What are the prevailing winds in 
the equatorial region? How do they vary with the seasons? 
What are the prevailing winds in the temperate zones? How 
do they vary with the seasons ? 

(3) The Inference. According to latitude, what climatic 
zones would you expect to find in this region? How will 
altitude affect these conclusions? If the temperature at the 
sea level on the equator is 98°, what will be the temperature at 
an altitude of 10,000 feet? 20,000 feet? 5000 feet? How 
high are the plateaus in the northern Andes? What, then, will 
be their climate, according to latitude and altitude ? In what 
respect will the prevailing winds modify the temperature of 
this region? etc. 

The temperature of the central and southern portions of the 
region may then be inferred from similar data. Rainfall will 
probably be left for another lesson, but it may be inferred from 
an application of the same principles. 

(4) The Verification. The inferences having been placed in 
tabular form upon the blackboard, the pupils may then be 
encouraged to go to the text- books, encyclopedias, and other 
sources for empirical evidence that will support or controvert 
the conclusions. In some cases, the deductive inferences may 
be found not to tally with the facts. It will then be necessary 
to search out the causes of the discrepancies. When all dis- 
puted points have been cleared up, the tabulated inferences 
may be modified to meet the facts, and recorded in permanent 
form in the pupils' note-books.^ 

1 The writer is indebted to Miss Ella Pond Leland, Critic Teacher in 
the Montana State Normal College, for this plan, which has been taken, 
practically entire, from a class exercise in the seventh grade. 



3IO THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

Such a plan for a development lesson is obviously amen- 
able to rather wide variation. It is not necessary to bring 
out all the data, or all the principles, at one time. The 
influence of latitude may first be considered, and the modi- 
fying influence of altitude noted, before the prevailing 
winds are mentioned. Temperature may be treated apart 
from rainfall, and rainfall reserved for a separate lesson. 
One part of a region may be treated as a unit before tak- 
ing up other parts. But, in general, the procedure will 
always involve these four stages. Obviously, too, there 
will be a certain uniformity in the order in which topics 
are taken up. It would be illogical to treat agricultural 
products prior to a treatment of climate, because agri- 
cultural products depend upon cUmate. 

Other lessons of this type are represented in the solution of 
arithmetical problems. Here we have a statement of the 
problem (data), the processes governing the solution (princi- 
ples), and the solution itself (inference). Mathematical deduc- 
tion differs from that represented in the lesson on geography, 
in that the need for verification does not exist, — except, per- 
haps, in the form of a reverse process (proof), to make certain 
that no mechanical errors have crept in. This is because 
mathematical deductions are absolute. Given certain condi- 
tions, certain results are bound to follow. In the geographical 
deductions, certain conditions just as assuredly give rise to cer- 
tain results, but we can seldom know absolutely that all modi- 
fying factors have been accounted for. Hence the necessity 
for verification and hence the danger of assuming such deduc- 
tions to be anything more than very probable hypotheses until 
they have been verified by actual observation. 



THE DEDUCTIVE DEVELOPMENT LESSON 31I 

Objections have frequently been raised to the applica- 
tion of the deductive method to the treatment of a sub- 
ject like geography. One may say that, at most, we can 
obtain only shrewd guesswork and that guesswork is 
something not to be encouraged, to say the very least. 
The fallacy of this position Ues in the fact that "guess- 
ing" is assumed to be emphasized in the deductive lesson. 
As a matter of fact, it is not the guessing that is made to 
appear important in the eyes of the pupil, but the veri- 
fication. Nor is it the guessing itself that is dangerous, 
but rather the failure to recognize that a deductive infer- 
ence is, at best, only a guess. One can do no better in 
this connection than to bear in mind the words of Hux- 
ley,^ whose mastery of scientific method can never be 
questioned: "It is a favorite popular delusion that the 
scientific inquirer is under a sort of moral obligation to 
abstain from going beyond that generalization of observed 
facts which is absurdly called * Baconian ' induction. 
But any one who is practically acquainted with scientific 
work is aware that those who refuse to go beyond fact 
rarely get as far as fact ; and any one who has studied 
the history of science knows that almost every great step 
therein has been made by 'anticipation of nature,' that 
is, by the invention of hypotheses which, though veri- 
fiable, often had little foundation to start with; and not 
unfrequently, in spite of a long career of usefulness, 
turned out to be wholly erroneous in the long run." 

1 T. H. Huxley: Methods and Results, New York, 1896, p. 62. 



312 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

5. In deductive lessons of the explanatory type the 
object is not to anticipate facts that may exist, but to 
explain facts that do exist. Thus in geography, the facts 
that are presented or discovered must be put into cohe- 
rent systems, must be organized^ explained. This is 
sometimes done by an inductive process, but more fre- 
quently it is done by deduction — by bringing them under 
the operation of general principles. A lesson in the 
analysis of sentences is a deductive lesson of the explana- 
tory type. The facts, the data, are furnished by the sen- 
tences. The process of analysis involves an explanation 
of the position and function of each word. 

Consider, for example, the following exercise : " Hamilton 
and Burr fought at Weehawken." 

Kind of sentence ? Simple. Why? 

Subject? Compound. Why? Name the subject. Why 
do the words named form the subject? 

Name the predicate. Why does the word named form the 
predicate? 

Modifiers of the subject? None. 

Modifiers of the predicate ? Adverbial prepositional phrase. 
Why a modifier? Why prepositional ? Why adverbial? 

Note here (i) that each element of the sentence is 
brought under a more general class — the class name 
is applied to the particular; (2) that the position and 
function of each element are explained by reference to 
some general principle; and (3) that each of these pro- 
cesses is purely deductive. 



THE DEDUCTIVE DEVELOPMENT LESSON 313 

Geography again furnishes some excellent examples of this 
type of deductive lesson. Assuming that the essential condi- 
tions of a good wheat country, a good corn country, a good 
cotton country, etc., have been developed by a careful induc- 
tive study of types in the United States, these principles may 
then be appUed to the explanation of wheat, corn, or cotton 
belts in other countries. Thus the raising of wheat in European 
Russia is a fact that may well merit a development lesson of 
the explanatory type. 

Data. Wheat is grown in the central and southern portions 
of European Russia. Let us see why. 

Principles. What conditions have we found to be essential 
to a good wheat country? 

Climate : cool, with sufficient but not too much moisture — 
at best thirty to forty inches annually, with even distribution. 
Hard wheat grown only in cool climates with fairly vigorous 
winters. 

Soil : fertile, not marshy, not exhausted. Ground fairly 
level, for convenience in harvesting. 

Other conditions : easy transportation, water preferred ; 
land relatively cheap, population not dense. 

Inference. Then if Russia is a good wheat country, it must 
fulfill these conditions. 

Verification. Let us see if this is true. What is the climate 
of central and southern Russia? What is the nature of the 
soil? What can you find out about the rainfall? What means 
for water transportation? What conditions would render land 
relatively cheap? etc. 

It will be noticed that the treatment of the explanatory 
type of deductive lesson falls into the same subdivisions 
as the treatment of the anticipatory type. In the lesson 
on the climate of the Andes region, we started with par- 
ticular facts of altitude, latitude, prevailing winds, etc., 



314 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

and inferred what the climate would be. Then we veri- 
fied our inference by an appeal to empirical data. In the 
present instance it is as though we started with the par- 
ticular fact that the climate is of such and such a nature, 
and then explained why it is thus by reference to latitude, 
altitude, etc. In either case the lesson is deductive, and 
in either case there are distinct divisions between the four 
steps, — data, principles, inference, and verification. 

Good examples of explanatory lessons are furnished by 
the teaching of natural science in the high schools. In 
botany, for example, the principles of chemistry and 
physics are, or should be, called upon to explain the 
facts of plant physiology. Suppose a lesson to have as 
its subject-matter the upward movement of sap through 
the root and stem of a plant. The principles of osmosis 
and capillary attraction are at once suggested. The in- 
ference will be that some structure of the plant fulfills 
the conditions required for the operation of these princi- 
ples. Needless to say, this topic may also be approached 
inductively; but if the principles of osmosis and capil- 
larity have already been developed in physics, why re- 
develop them in botany? Here is a fact: the movement 
of a liquid in opposition to the law of gravitation. What 
principles have we discussed that will cover this phe- 
nomenon? Under what conditions? Then we must 
infer that these conditions must, in some way, be ful- 
filled by the plant structure. Let us examine the struc- 
ture and see how they are fulfilled. 



THE DEDUCTIVE DEVELOPMENT LESSON 315 

6. It is needless to say that the development lesson, 
whether of the deductive or inductive type, is subject to 
the Umitations of the development method in general. 
Broadly speaking, its field in elementary education is 
limited to the intermediate and higher grades — one may 
say, approximately, from the fifth grade up. The induc- 
tive lesson, in its simpler forms, is in place in the third 
and fourth grades, as well as in the upper grades. It 
m.ust be remembered that both inductive and deductive 
lessons involve reasoning processes, — the formation of 
judgments de novo, — and not only do they involve rea- 
soning processes, but processes of logical reasoning", 
that is, the formation of judgments upon the basis of 
other judgments. Until the child can deal readily with 
condensed experiences, he will be seriously handicapped 
in such lessons. The primary grades, as we have seen, 
are the field of concrete experience and the gradual for- 
mation of a vocabulary. They are, above all, the field 
for acquiring an initial mastery of the foremost tool of 
thought, — language. 



CHAPTER XXI 

Typical Forms of Development and Instruction: 
(c) THE Study, and {d) the Recitation Lesson 

1. The study lesson is a name that was applied by 
the late Professor Hinsdale^ to designate the mastery by 
the pupil of an assigned portion of a text-book. It may 
be the step of presentation in the inductive development 
lesson, or the step of verification in the deductive devel- 
opment lesson, or it may simply be an exercise in which 
the pupils are gaining particular or conceptual judgments 
from the printed page. In any case, the principles that 
condition the successful issue of the lesson are the same. 

2. In the general discussion of the book method in a 
former chapter ^ we noted some of the difficulties that are 
always involved in this type of instruction. In the pres- 
ent connection, however, only two of these need be con- 
sidered: (i) the difficulty of holding the attention to the 
printed page, of emphasizing the salient points, and of 
introducing variety into the monotony; and (2) the con- 
sequent mind-wandering with the resulting temptation to 
make up for lost time by rote-learning and verbahzing. 

1 B. a. Hinsdale : Art of Study, New York, 1900, ch. ix. 
' Ch. xviii, above. 

316 



STUDY AND RECITATION LESSONS 317 

The technique of the study lesson must aim to over- 
come these difficulties. The first is the more fundamen- 
tal, for rote-learning grows out of inadequate appercep- 
tion, although it is greatly augmented by careless teaching 
that either accepts text-book sentences quite undigested, 
or, at most, is satisfied with a paraphrase that just misses 
the "words of the book." If, however, the attention of 
the child can be successfully directed to the content, it 
is probable that the factor of verbalism can be easily 
eHminated. 

3. The study lesson may be divided into two func- 
tionally distinct parts: (i) the assignment, and (2) the 
seat work. 

(i) The Assignment. This is a preliminary clearing 
of the road before the seat work begins. Ordinarily it 
occupies a portion of the time devoted to the previous 
recitation, although it may often require but a moment 
or two before the beginning of the study period. Its 
function is similar to that of the statement of the aim in- 
the inductive development lesson; that is, it should re- 
late the new material to the old, and reveal a need for the 
acquisition of the new. In doing this it will often be 
profitable to anticipate, in some measure, the treatment 
that the book represents. The acme of a skillful assign- 
ment is reached when the teacher reveals just enough of 
what is contained in the lesson to stimulate in the pupils 
the desire to ascertain the rest for themselves. Just how 
much this shall be will differ in different subjects and 



3l8 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

with different classes. In general, the assignment will 
be much more explicit and detailed in the intermediate 
grades, where the pupil is just learning to use text-books, 
than in the upper grades and the high school, where some 
famiUarity with the text-book method may be assumed. 
But in all cases the assignment, whether it be brief or 
full, is an important step which should never be omitted. 

In the use of the smaller geography, which is commonly 
the first book to be employed strictly as a text, the assignment 
is of the utmost importance. It is hardly too much to say that, 
in this case, all the material of the text should be carefully 
developed orally before the pupil is set to work at the book. 
Even an adult's mind will wander when he attempts to read a 
text with which he is absolutely unfamiliar and which deals with 
a science whose technical terms mean very little to him. It is 
a fallacy to think that a preliminary oral development will cur- 
tail the pupil's interest in the text itself. One is interested in 
what one knows about, not in what is unknown. Independence 
in the use of the text is the objective point, but this independ- 
ence cannot come at the outset. 

The seat work preparatory to the " reading " exercise forms 
an illustration of the study lesson, and the preparation for the 
seat work is a good type of the assignment. During the first 
four or five years of the pupil's school life, all new words in the 
reading lesson should first come to him through the ear. The 
printed or written word is a symbol not of an idea, but of a 
spoken word. The normal process of interpretation seems 
therefore to be from the printed word to the spoken word, and 
thence to the " idea." Hence the necessity for a development 
of all new words prior to setting the child at work on the read- 
ing lesson. 

For this development, the teacher has the choice of several 



STUDY AND RECITATION LESSONS 319 

methods : (i) The story covered by the lesson may be told to 
the class in a brief form, taking care to introduce new words in 
simple and familiar connections, writing the new word upon the 
blackboard at the time it is uttered so that the pupils may be- 
come thoroughly familiar with its form. (2) If the " thought " 
of the selection is familiar to the pupils, the new words may be 
developed through the use of context not directly connected 
with that of the selection itself. (3) It is always well during 
the assignment to bring out any connection that may be ap- 
parent between the lesson to be read and the experience of the 
pupils. If the lesson is one upon the intelligence of horses, 
for example, a period or portion of a period may profitably be 
spent in a conversation lesson, aiming to draw out the experi- 
ence of the children with respect to horses, the points that they 
have noted concerning the horse's intelligence, etc. During 
this discussion the new words may be introduced by the teacher 
— suggested, perhaps, in place of a word which the child has 
used and which may be less effective than the new word. 
(4) In the case of masterpieces of literature, and especially in 
the case of poetry, very little attempt should be made to de- 
velop the thought and the new words through a paraphrase. 
It will be much better to read (or, still better, to recite) the 
poem to the class, pointing out the difficult words and clear- 
ing up by explanations the more obscure passages. 

At the close of the assignment, every pupil should be able 
to recognize the words just developed at sight and to give the 
main points in the thought development. 

4. (2) The Seat Work. This phase of schoolroom 
activity — or inactivity — is beyond doubt responsible for 
much more than half of the serious waste of time that 
our American system involves. The time spent by the 
average child in "preparing lessons" is very largely time 
thrown away. The German schools do away with this 



320 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

source of waste by eliminating the text-book, but under 
American conditions it is impossible to adopt this rem- 
edy. A large proportion of our teachers are necessarily 
to be classed as "undertrained." They remain in the 
''profession" but a few years, and they commonly have 
but an inadequate preparation on which to start. They 
are forced to depend upon text-books, consequently the 
use of text-books must be adapted to the conditions that 
prevail. The preliminary oral development suggested 
in connection with the assignment is somewhat of a com- 
promise between the German and American methods. 

5. But even a skillful assignment will not always op- 
erate to prevent waste of time through inattention. In 
the beginning, it is necessary every now and again to 
direct the pupils' attention to the salient points. This 
is best accompHshed by means of suggestive questions 
which may be written upon the blackboard as a guide 
to the text. The pupils at their seats will read the ques- 
tions and note the answers that are to be found in the 
book. The recitation may then be based upon these 
written questions, although the latter should be sup- 
plemented by others of a more detailed nature. After 
some practice of this sort, the pupils may be encouraged 
to make out Hsts of questions for themselves, covering 
the matter given in the text. This may be rendered even 
more effective by permitting the child having the best 
Hst of questions to "quiz" the class — to turn teacher 
for the time being. Needless to say, this device must 



STUDY AND RECITATION LESSONS 321 

not be carried too far, for the questions asked by the 
pupils will inevitably emphasize the minor and less con- 
sequential points, rather than the larger thought rela- 
tions. It is valuable, however, when used temperately, 
for it enlists the powerful services of the instinct of emu- 
lation. The task of the teacher, reduced to lowest terms, 
is to give the pupil a motive, to show him a need, for 
tracing out thought connections. Almost anything that 
will subserve this end is a legitimate implement to em- 
ploy, if it is not overdone. 

6. After some degree of proficiency has been gained 
in seeking out answers to questions, these may be re- 
placed by topical outlines, which may, in turn, serve as 
a basis for recitation work ; instead of answering a given 
question, the pupil may "recite" upon a given topic. 

7. With practice in study by the topical outline, the 
pupil may gradually pass to the stage of making an out- 
line for himself. This is an art to which too Uttle atten- 
tion is now paid in the schools. If the child acquires 
what might be termed the "outlining habit" early in life, 
he will in course of time acquire the abihty to make a 
serviceable outline without resorting to pencil and paper 
— holding his attention over a long series of topics with- 
out undue exertion. When he has mastered this art, he 
has mastered the art of reading. The chances are that 
he will no longer read, — as many of us do, even in 
adult years, — following the words faithfully with the 
eye, while the wits go "wool-gathering." Such a mas- 



322 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

tery of reading involves, of course, a great deal of hard 
work, and the road has to be traversed anew for every 
subject that is taken up; for we cannot think of a gen- 
eralized habit of study any more than we can think of a 
generalized habit of neatness or industry. But we may 
have ideals as to the best methods of study, and these can 
be developed and sustained only by persistent practice 
in various fields. 

It is, of course, possible to give the pupil unnecessary 
help in the study lesson and thus to involve one's self in 
the same danger that was noted in connection with objec- 
tive teaching. But the marked inefficiency of this work in 
nearly every school at the present time seems to indicate 
that the danger point has not yet been reached.^ 

Professor Hinsdale, in the chapter just referred to, gives 
some excellent advice concerning the assignment. He calls 
attention especially to the necessity on the teacher's part to 
see to it that the text assigned is within the grasp of the pupil ; 
that the book selected is suitable to the age and attainments of 
those for whom it is intended ; that difficult points be cleared 
up by oral development ; and that the material of the book be 
carefully worked over by the teacher beforehand and cut up 
into lessons : not by so many lines or pages or paragraphs or 
chapters, but by sections of equal difficulty and importance. 

8. The Recitation Lesson. The recitation lesson com- 
monly follows the study lesson and has for its objects. 

^ " At least three fourths of all the time spent by a boy of twelve in 
trying to learn a hard lesson out of a book is time thrown away." — G. S. 
Hall: Methods of Teaching History, Boston, 1885, p. 206. 



STUDY AND RECITATION LESSONS 323 

(i) the reporting to the teacher by the pupils of the facts 
gained in the study lesson ; (2) the clearing up of obscure 
and difficult points by the teacher; (3) the concrete 
illustration of details; (4) the amplification of the text- 
book materials by supplementary matter ; and (5) the 
bringing together and summing-up of the net results 
of the study in a clear and systematic manner. We 
shall not include under the term "recitation lesson" 
the class exercise that has already been discussed as 
the development lesson. Many exercises are given over 
simply to the impressing of facts as such, rather than to 
the development of principles upon the basis of facts 
or the explanation of facts by reference to principles. 
The recitation lesson, as the term is used here, compre- 
hends only the first of these processes. This type of 
lesson is met with in all departments of education, but 
most frequently, perhaps, in the intermediate and gram- 
mar grades. 

9. The recitation lesson takes two general forms: 
(i) the question-and-answer recitation, and (2) the 
topical recitation. 

(i) The question-and-answer recitation is the more 
elementary form, inasmuch as the pupil's responsibility 
for the materials of the text is limited to detailed facts, 
which are recalled in response to the teacher's questions. 
Thus the task of keeping in mind the connection between 
details, which is the chief difficulty in the topical recita- 
tion, is not imposed upon the pupil. All that he is asked 



324 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

to do is to remember separate facts and to reproduce 
each of them in turn when the cue is given. 

ID. The art of questioning is an important factor in 
this type of lesson. While this art can be acquired 
only by persistent and painstaking practice, a number 
of helpful suggestions may be obtained by a study of 
questions both good and bad, and by a careful considera- 
tion of the principles which condition successful ques- 
tioning. Professor De Garmo's recent treatment ^ of 
this general subject is especially rich in concrete illus- 
trations which will repay careful study. 

For the specific purposes of the question-and-answer 
recitation, the following principles and suggestions may 
be helpful : — 

(a) The function of the question in this type of lesson 
is to direct attention to the salient features of the text. 
That it may not distract the attention from essential 
to non-essential points, the question should be (i) defi- 
nite, that is, limited to a particular fact that the lesson 
brings out; and (2) unequivocal, that is, admitting 
but one correct answer. 

(b) The question should be so framed that the answer 
will fulfill, as far as possible, the conditions of efficient 
recall. This demands that the question should, as a 
rule, demand an answer in judgment form, for the clear 
formulation of experience in judgment is a powerful 

1 Charles De Garmo : Interest and Education^ New York, 1903, pp. 
181 ff. 



STUDY AND RECITATION LESSONS 325 

factor in promoting retention and recall. For this rea- 
son, questions are to be avoided that (i) imply the answer 
("leading questions"), (2) permit of answer by "yes" 
or "no," or (3) can be answered with single words. 
(2) and (3) are subject to many qualifications, and are 
not to be followed dogmatically. " It is pedantry ... to 
banish all questions that can be answered by yes and 
no. We need only to be sure that sufficient reason fol- 
lows or sufficient experience precedes the answer. In 
other words, the yes or no should not be a fortunate or 
unfortunate guess." ^ 

(c) There is great danger that the recitation lesson will 
involve almost as serious a waste of time as the study 
lesson in that only the pupil who is "reciting" will be 
attentive. For this reason it is good practice not to call 
upon a given pupil to recite until the question has been 
"put" to the entire class. For the same reason, it is 
well to avoid a uniform order or sequence, alphabetical 
or otherwise, in which pupils are called upon. It may 
be well occasionally to call upon the same pupil two or 
three times during a single recitation, even if all the 
others do not have an opportunity to recite. Otherwise 
a pupil who has finished his recitation may be tempted 
to "rest on his laurels" and permit his wits to go wool- 
gathering during the remainder of the exercise. It is 
also generally recognized as poor practice for a teacher 
to repeat an answer that a pupil gives. This encourages 

1 De Garmo, op. cii., p. 194. 



326 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

slovenly and inarticulate answers. The class should 
be required to depend upon the pupil reciting for the 
answer to the question, and for the preservation of order 
and sequence if the recitation is topical. 

(d) Everything that might, in any way, interfere with 
the concentration of attention upon the matter in hand 
must be ehminated or reduced to a minimum. Hence 
the "marking" of the pupil after each individual reci- 
tation is to be looked upon as bad practice; if this is 
done, it should be at the close of the recitation period. 

(e) If the question, as put by the teacher, seems to 
puzzle the class unduly, it is permissible to recast it in 
another form, but this should not occur frequently. The 
habit of asking the same question in a half-dozen dif- 
ferent ways is sure to confuse and distract. 

II. (2) The Topical Recitation. The problem of the 
topical lesson is to lead the pupil to give out the substance 
of the material acquired from the book, with a minimum 
of questioning on the part of the teacher. The mate- 
rials are worked over in the child's mind — apperceived 
— and expressed in the form of simple, factual judg- 
ments following logically upon one another. The more 
independent the pupil is in this process, the greater will 
be the value of the lesson. Needless to say, however, 
this capacity does not come to the child at once. Indeed 
its development is one of the most difficult tasks that the 
elementary school involves. It is perhaps best worked 
up through the method suggested in discussing the as- 



STUDY AND RECITATION LESSONS 32/ 

signment, passing gradually from detailed questions to 
"sketchy" questions, and from these to rather detailed 
outlines; thence by easy stages to schematic outlines. 
If the recitation follows this order of growth in the assign- 
ment, the pupil should be able to give a satisfactory 
account of himself by the topical method in the latter 
half of the fifth school year. But the transition from 
the question-and-answer to the topical recitation need 
not be a formal affair. The questions may be so framed 
that they will require answers increasingly comprehen- 
sive until they finally pass over into the mere statement 
of the topic. 



CHAPTER XXII 

Typical Forms of Development and Instruction: 
(e) THE Drill, (/) the Review, and (g) the Exami- 
nation Lessons 

1. The Drill Lesson. The purpose of the drill lesson 
is to insure the functioning of experience as habit. Con- 
sequently the technique of the drill lesson is strictly 
conditioned by the principle of habit- forming : focaliza- 
tion and repetition in attention. The chief source of 
danger in this type of lesson is to overlook the impli- 
cations of this fundamental law. 

Exercises in spelling and writing, for example, are com- 
monly placed at the most unfavorable periods of the day — 
just before noon or just prior to the close of the afternoon 
session, when attention is at a very low ebb. In the inter- 
mediate grades, at least, all drill lessons — including writing, 
spelling, basal reading, drill arithmetic, etc. — should be given 
very favorable periods. 

2. The necessity of preUminary focaHzation implies 
that a part of each drill lesson should be given over to 
an explanation and demonstration of the process to be 
automatized. The lessons in writing and spelling should 
be as thoroughly unified and as systematically organized 
as the development lessons in geography and grammar. 
They should concentrate upon one thing at a time and 

^28 



DRILLS, REVIEWS, AND EXAMINATIONS 329 

carry that through to a successful issue. It is common 
to look upon exercises in writing and spelling particu- 
larly as "rest periods" for the teacher. As a matter of 
fact, his direction and guidance are at no time more 
important. 

In writing, for example, the structure of the capital D may 
form the central feature of one lesson ; the connection of D 
with following letters, the subject of the next, and so on. In 
any case, the main topic should be talked over at the begin- 
ning of the exercise, the difficulties explained, and a demon- 
stration given by the teacher in the construction of the approved 
form. Then the class should practice attentively, not mechani- 
cally, under the teacher's constant criticism, until the correct 
adjustment is automatized. 

The same is true of the spelling lesson. Each exercise 
should be a unity, dealing with some particular point — some 
rule, perhaps, or some combination that has been found to be 
a stumbling-block to many members of the class : the ie and 
ei combinations, or priticipal and principle. These should be 
focahzed, talked about, and drilled upon until the correct 
forms flow from the pen without conscious effort. 

The exercise in oral reading forms one of the best examples 
of the drill lesson, particularly in the " basal " reading, the very 
essence of which is drill. Here the appropriate posture of the 
pupil demands attention ; it is not much more difficult for the 
child to acquire habits of correct posture than it is to acquire 
habits of incorrect posture, but it means a serious and unremit- 
ting effort on the part of the teacher for a long time. The 
"basal" reading lesson is also the best medium for fixing 
habits of good articulation : the mumbUng of words, talking 
"in the throat," clipping final consonants and even syllables, 
are all lines of least resistance. But the main object of 
the basal reading lesson is drill in the ready recognition and 



330 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

proper pronunciation of words. Here there is nothing, in the 
writer's opinion, that equals in efficiency the " old-fashioned " 
repetition of the reading selection until perfect mastery is 
attained. 

3. In all forms of the drill lesson, the factor of focali- 
zation implies that the conditions of apperception should 
be fulfilled so far as possible. The pupil should see the 
need of correct forms, and this should give him the motive 
for repetition. 

But even when the pupil perceives a distinct need for 
making a process automatic, the monotony that the 
necessary repetition involves may effectually discourage 
him from the task. It will frequently happen that noth- 
ing short of an arbitrary command, backed up, if need 
be, with appropriate compulsion, will keep the pupil 
returning to the task until it has been completed. This 
necessity may sometimes be averted by an intelligent 
use of devices that will serve to introduce a superficial 
variety and at the same time preserve the essential ad- 
justments that are being automatized. In arithmetic, 
for example, the device commonly employed is the solu- 
tion of problems, which appeals to the "puzzle instinct," 
so potent in children up to the age of adolescence.^ 
Devices that appeal to the instinct of emulation are also 
profitably employed in arithmetic and spelling (as exem- 
plified in the old-time, but still serviceable, "spelling 

1 Cf. E. H. Lindley : " A Study of Puzzles," in American Journal of 
Psychology, vol. viii, pp. 431 ff. 



DRILLS, REVIEWS, AND EXAMINATIONS 33 1 

matches"). The exhibitioPx of good work is another 
device that is commonly employed in writing, drawing, 
and manual training. 

Two very serious dangers are involved in the use of 
devices, (a) The average teacher, finding a device 
successful, is almost certain to overwork it — to carry 
it so far that it defeats its own purpose. The device is, 
at best, only a means to an end, and the effort must always 
be to keep the end distinctly in view, and not to permit 
the device to become paramount in the minds of either 
teacher or pupils. In some schools, for example, emu- 
lation is carried to a dangerous extreme. The marks or 
grades are the be-all and the end-all of the pupil's effort. 
In other schools, it is the exhibition of "good" work 
or showy results that is the objective point of all teach- 
ing and learning. To make these things (which are 
excellent as devices) ends in themselves is to obscure 
the true purpose and to distort the normal process of 
education. 

(b) The danger that the child will come to depend 
exclusively upon the factor of interest need not again be 
reverted to; it may suffice to say here that if the pupil 
does not sometimes find his school work disagreeable, 
then something is radically wrong either with the pupil 
or with the school or with both. 

4. The Review Lesson. The function of the review 
lesson is to gather up the points that have been made 
in a series of development or recitation lessons, and thus 



332 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

(a) still further organize the facts and principles into 
large systems, and {b) give these facts and principles 
the advantage of additional repetition. In the indi- 
vidual lessons that have preceded the review, the atten- 
tion has been upon the various parts of the subject- 
matter rather than upon the connections and relations 
that hold the parts together. In the review lesson, the 
emphasis is transferred to the larger relations and thought 
connections. 

5. It follows from this that the review lesson properly 
covers a series of particular points that naturally unite 
into a system or group. Thus in geography, a review 
lesson is in place after a physiographical unit — a con- 
tinent, or a large river basin, or a mountain system — 
has been treated intensively. A series of review lessons 
is also very obviously in place at the close of a long course 
in which the threads of unity are likely to be lost from 
view in the wealth of detail. It is hardly too much to 
say that every subject of the curriculum should be thus 
brought to a focus in a comprehensive and thorough 
review. 

6. Little need be said concerning the technique of the 
review lesson. The topical outline is eminently in place 
here, and the aim should be to have the larger headings 
kept in mind rather than presented in written form. 
These outhnes will also be more valuable if they are made 
out by the pupil himself, but in such cases they should 
certainly be worked over in class in order that the teacher 



DRILLS, REVIEWS, AND EXAMINATIONS 333 

may be sure that all points have been adequately cov- 
ered, and that the outline is comprehensive and syste- 
matic. After the subject has thus been skeletonized, 
the various headings and the more important subhead- 
ings may profitably be memorized. This may sound 
unorthodox in these days of loose methods, but expe- 
rience testifies that any acquisition that is worth while 
costs an effort, and that a thoroughly organized body 
of knowledge with well-articulated parts is an acqui- 
sition worth while; while experiment demonstrates that 
verbal repetition will serve all the better to fix such a 
system, once it has been worked out rationally. 

7. The Examination. This is the capstone of the 
review process. Just now somewhat under the ban of 
the reformer, it is nevertheless an indispensable agency 
of education if the principles developed in the former 
chapters are valid. 

The very essence of an examination is its formal char- 
acter. So-called informal examinations or tests may 
be valuable for certain purposes, but they entirely miss 
the virile virtue that the examination, in the strenuous 
sense of the term, possesses. The function of the exami- 
nation as a test of the pupil's knowledge is not of para- 
mount importance, but its function as an organizing 
agency of knowledge is supreme. The period of intense 
application preceding the examination represents the 
burning-point of attention. It is a strain, to be sure, 
but a strain that pays. The little children, the weak- 



334 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

lings, and the girls at the onset of adolescence may 
wisely be exempted from its operation ; but for the 
great majority of pupils and students above the age of 
eight the examination is the agency of formal educa- 
tion par excellence. 

The virtue of the examination lies, then, in its power 
to jorce strenuous mental effort to the task of organiz- 
ing a large body of facts and principles into a coherent 
system. This is the standard by which examination 
questions should be set. They should be large and com- 
prehensive, so formulated that they will bring out and 
exercise, not the memory for details, but the capacity 
to grasp large masses of knowledge and weld the separate 
facts and principles into systematic unities. 

To this end the examination should be, from the pupil's 
standpoint, an important test of successful work. If 
the pupil reahzes that success or failure depends upon 
"passing" his "finals," he has one of the most pow- 
erful motives — the motive of pride — for successful 
effort. In this sense it is true that the examination is 
a device; for the end of knowledge is application, not 
organization. But if our main contention is valid, — 
if organization is the most important and the most eco- 
nomical factor in promoting efficient recall, — then the 
examination is a legitimate means to a final end, and 
probably the most effective instrument that is at the 
command of the school for this purpose. 



CHAPTER XXIII 
The Hygiene of the Educative Process 

I. In the sense that it departs from the primitive 
lines of life, education is an artificial process. It rep- 
resents in the individual growth what civilization repre- 
sents in racial development; and, like civilization, it 
demands a readjustment for which the body is not natu- 
rally adapted. 

The erect posture, the indoor life, the necessity for 
concentration of energy, the necessity for persistent 
inhibition of normal impulse, the eating of cooked foods 
and the drinking of warm Hquids, the use of artificial 
means of shelter and protection — all these indicate 
in some measure the particulars in which man differs 
from his immediate forbears in the animal series; and 
while all these things mean much to human Hfe, man's 
body is not in every case adapted to the changes that they 
involve. This lack of perfect balance finds expression 
in the many ills and ailments pecuUar to humanity. 
The erect posture reheves the upper limbs of the function 
of locomotion and preserves the equilibrium of the body, 
which would otherwise be rendered unstable by the 

335 



336 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

disproportionate development of the brain. Yet this 
posture also exposes the viscera of the abdomen, which 
have no bony protection, and so paves the way for enteric 
complaints. By this means, too, additional labor is 
placed upon the heart. In woman, the erect posture 
has shifted the center of gravity in the reproductive 
organs, causing a transference of strain to a point that 
has not been given increased strength to bear its added 
responsibihties. Again, the concentration and inhibi- 
tion imposed by modem conditions make enormous 
demands upon nervous energy, which not infrequently 
find their culmination in nervous disintegration, corre- 
lated on the mental side with decay and degeneration. 
Similarly, the dependence upon prepared foods demands 
a readjustment in the digestive process which is not 
always satisfactory to the individual chiefly interested. 
In short, the old maxim, "Nature never does anything 
by halves," is quite overthrown in the case of man. The 
very virtues of civilization impose upon every one who 
lives the social life the paradoxical obligation to break 
nature's laws. How to get the most out of Ufe with the 
least suffering, how to do the best work with the least 
drain, how to be human and civilized and still be a healthy 
animal, are problems that can only approximate solution 
through compromise. When the best life entails no phys- 
ical suffering, when the best work can be done without 
danger of nervous breakdown, when civilization and cul- 
ture fail to demand some violation of primitive laws, man 



HYGIENE OF THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 33/ 

will have developed into a being that will have little bodily 
resemblance to his present self. 

2. In the work of the school this process of readjust- 
ment imposes the following conditions : — 

(a) The child's normal tendency is toward an active 
out-of-door life with an abundance of oxygen and sun- 
light; the school demands an indoor life with a possible 
insujBBciency of oxygen and sunlight. 

(b) The normal tendency is toward great freedom of 
movement, with only brief periods of quiescence during 
waking hours; the school demands a marked inhibition 
of movement and comparatively long periods of bodily 
quiescence. 

(c) The natural tendency is toward the coarser adjust- 
ments, involving the large muscles; the school demands 
the finer adjustments, involving the smaller muscles. 
This is especially true in eye movements. To make 
accurate scrutiny of fine details at short range during 
periods of long duration is a task for which the human 
eye in its present condition is very poorly adapted. 

(d) Closely related to (c) is the demand that the 
school makes upon the child for active attention. The 
conquest of impulse, which is the keynote of civilization 
and morality, means inhibition and a consequently large 
expenditure of nervous energy. 

To fulfill these requirements in such a manner that 
the process of education will not defeat its own purpose 
is a difl5cult task upon its face. It is easy to go to ex- 



338 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

tremes : the pupil's natural tendencies may be respected 
and indulged, and his bodily health possibly preserved 
thereby. But in this case his civilization is not accom- 
plished, but only postponed to a more unfavorable period. 
On the other hand, the most exacting requirements that 
social life demands may be fulfilled if the school neglects 
the hygiene of stress and strain. But the individual who 
is thus treated, while he may bear some of the earmarks 
of culture and civiHzation, is more than likely to miss 
the most essential element of all, — a sound body and 
physical well-being. 

3. The hygiene of the educative process may be dis- 
cussed under two heads: (i) the fulfillment of certain 
hygienic requirements that underlie the successful op- 
eration of other factors of the educative process, and 
(2) the formation of habits and ideals that condition 
a healthful life in general. 

(i) The Hygiene of Instruction. Certain conditions 
of light, temperature, ventilation, fatigue, etc., must be 
observed if the pupil is maximally to profit by the work 
of the school. These conditions may be disposed of 
briefly in this place, not because they are not important, 
but because a detailed discussion is rendered superfluous 
by the numerous treatises ^ and text-books ^ that so ade- 

1 Especially the monumental work of Burgerstein and Netolitzky: 
Handbuch der Schtilhygiene, Jena, 1902. 

2 L. Kotelmann : School Hygiene, English trans., Syracuse, 1899; 
E. R. Shaw: School Hygiene, New York, 1 901; A. Newsholme: School 
Hygiene, Boston, 1894. 



HYGIENE OF THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 339 

quately cover the field. Only the most salient and prac- 
tical principles will, therefore, find a place in the 
following brief outline. 

(a) Light} The light of the schoolroom should come ex- 
clusively from the left, although rear windows that can be 
adequately shaded by opaque curtains may be useful for venti- 
lation. The actual glass surface should be from one sixth to 
one fourth of the floor surface of the room, under normal con- 
ditions.* Inadequate lighting means a serious danger of eye 
strain, with its attendant headaches and general interference 
with the best work. 

{b) Temperature? The temperature generally recommended 
for schoolrooms in this country is from 68° to 72° F. Wide 
variations from this norm are apt to cause restlessness and dis- 
traction. Each room should be provided with three or four 
good thermometers, which should be hung in different parts of 
the room, at 3 to 3^ feet above the floor. Where the regula- 
tion of temperature is not provided for by a thermostat, the 
thermometers should be read and the temperature recorded by 
one of the pupils, the readings being placed upon the black- 
board, where the teacher can learn at a glance the temperature 
of the room. 

{c) Ventilation} There seems to be a disagreement among 
authorities as to the specific cause of the mental depression 
that is felt in all ill-ventilated rooms, but there can be no doubt 
either of the fact of depression or of the fact that fresh air 
removes the cause, whatever it may be. The standard of 

1 Burgerstein and Netolitzky, pp. 209-230; Shaw, pp. 8-26. 

2 In the mountain regions, owing, doubtless, to the exceptionally clear 
skies and translucent atmosphere, this ratio, it has been found by careful 
tests in the Montana State Normal College, may be safely reduced to one 
twelfth. 

' Burgerstein and Netolitzky, pp. 266-272; Shaw, pp. 65 ff. 
* Burgerstein and Netolitzky, pp. 272-307; Shaw, pp. 68-109. 



340 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

air renewal is 30 cubic feet each minute for every pupil. The 
texts referred to will furnish various methods for determining 
whether a given system of ventilation is efficient in this degree. 
When windows are opened for ventilation, care should be taken 
to prevent drafts from falling upon the pupils. Exchange of 
air between the interior and exterior of a building is propor- 
tional to the difference in temperature ; in cold weather the 
air will circulate readily, but when the temperature of the room 
is approximately that of the outside air, the rate of interchange 
is greatly diminished. Shaw recommends that, in buildings 
having no fan system, the windows be opened once every hour, 
and the air of the room thoroughly renewed. The children 
should be exercised during these periods, and the temperature 
must not be unduly reduced. In buildings ventilated by the 
fan system, windows should not be opened while the fan is 
opeiating. If they are, the system of incoming and outgoing 
drafts, upon which the fan system depends for its efficiency, 
will be upset, and with deleterious consequences. No small 
part of the opposition to fan ventilation results from the per- 
sistence of teachers in opening windows while the fan is in 
operation. 

(d) Fatigue} Despite the numerous researches concerning 
the factors of fatigue and their operation in the school, this is 
still a dark chapter of school hygiene. It is extremely difficult 
to segregate the " central " from the " peripheral " factors — 
to devise a test that will adequately measure the exhaustion of 
the nerve cells rather than the fatigue of the muscles or the 
mere feeling of " tiredness," which may not in the least mean 
nervous exhaustion. 

Three general methods ' of investigation have been employed 
with varying degrees of success : (i) the dictation-computation 

1 Burgerstein and Netolitzky, pp. 454-718; Shaw, pp. 227-234; Kotel- 
mann, ch. vii. 

* A clear account of these methods is given by Kotelmann, ch. vii. 



HYGIENE OF THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 34 1 

method, used extensively by Sikorsky, Burgerstein, and Teljat- 
nik ; in brief, consisting in the dictation of sentences of equal 
length and difficulty, or the assignment of problems of equal 
difficulty, under varying conditions, and a comparison of the 
errors; (2) the ergographic method, based on the assumption 
that the disintegration of nerve substance, after reaching a 
certain point, results in a specific chemical poison, which is 
diffused through the system and which interferes with muscular 
activity ; muscular strength, as measured by an ergograph or 
recording dynamometer, thus becoming an index of the con- 
dition of the nerve cells ; a method used extensively by Mosso 
and Keller, and perhaps, all in all, the most satisfactory test ; 
and (3) the (zsthesiometric method, introduced by Griesbach, 
employing an sesthesiometer for determining the sensitivity of 
the skin, under the assumption (now generally beUeved to be 
fallacious) that exhaustion of the central nerve cells decreases 
this sensitivity. 

From the comprehensive digest of the literature made by 
Burgerstein and Netolitzky, the following principles appear to 
be fairly well established : — 

(i) Certain types of mental work induce fatigue more rapidly 
than other types of work. All authorities seem to agree that 
mathematics, gymnastics, foreign, and especially ancient, lan- 
guages are more fatiguing than the mother tongue, geography, 
and history. The following series, showing decreasing fatigue 
indices, are typical ; the first is presented by Wagner on the 
basis of aesthesiometric tests, the second by Kemsies on the 
basis of ergographic tests : ^ — 

Wagner : mathematics, Latin, Greek, gymnastics, history, 
geography, arithmetic, French, mother tongue (German), 
nature study, drawing, religion. 

Kemsies : gymnastics, mathematics, foreign language, re- 
ligion, mother tongue, natural science, geography, history, sing- 
ing, drawing. 

1 Burgerstein and Netolitzky, p. 569. 



342 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

(2) In general, it would seem that the fatiguing studies are 
(a) those involving a great deal of muscular effort, (b) those 
involving abstract judgments, and {c) those involving drill in 
form; while the less fatiguing subjects are predominantly 
those in which the thought or content is uppermost, and 
those involving objective factors. 

(3) The curve of work capacity presents the form of a series 
of waves, indicating that the function is rhythmic. The best 
work is not done at the very outset, but only after a certain 
inertia has been overcome or a certain momentum gained. 
This is clearly brought out by the ergographic researches of 
Keller.i 

(4) There is probably a seasonal variation in work capacity, 
the curve, according to Shuyten,^ reaching its highest points in 
December and January and its lowest point in July. 

(5) The daily work curve for normal children on a "free 
day" — such as our Saturday — was found by Teljatnik' to 
decrease gradually until noon, then to rise again at two o'clock 
to a point somewhat above the morning's maximum, then to 
fall rapidly until about five o'clock, when it reached the low 
point of the afternoon. On a school day, however, the curve 
in the morning declines much more rapidly, and reaches a 
lower point at noon ; the afternoon high point is much lower 
than on a free day, and the afternoon decline not quite so 
rapid. 

(6) There appears to be little experimental evidence as to 
variations in work capacity at different stages of growth. The 
optimal length of the recitation and study periods is generally 
conceded to increase as the child grows older, and the follow- 
ing determinations, credited to Chadwick,* represent the best 
practice in American schools : — 

^ Burgerstein and Netolitzky, p. 572. * /(JiV. p. 582. ' /(5»V. p. 597. 
* S. H. Rowe: Physical Nature of the Child, pp. 167-168; Shaw, pp^ 
229 f. ; Burgerstein and Netolitzky, p. 545. 



HYGIENE OF THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 343 

From 5 to 7 years of age, all periods are 15 minutes' 
duration. 

From 7 to 10 years of age, all periods are 20 minutes' 
duration. 

From 10 to 12 years of age, all periods are 25 minutes' 
duration. 

From 12 to 16 years of age, all periods are 30 minutes' 
duration. 

(/) The Special Hygiene of Reading and Writing} It is in 
connection with reading and writing that there is probably 
the greatest danger of evil consequences from a violation of 
hygienic laws. 

(i) The posture in reading is particularly important. Desks 
should be so adjusted that the books and papers laid thereon 
will be not more than twelve inches from the eyes when the 
pupil sits erect. In the class exercises in reading the pupil 
when standing should acquire the habit of holding the book at 
this distance from the eyes. Where pupils find this difficult, 
they should be examined by a competent oculist.^ 

(2) The posture in writing is also a matter of profound 
importance. One of the leading defects of the "slant" sys- 
tem of penmanship is its inevitable tendency toward an 
asymmetrical position of the body, leading to lateral curvature 
of the spine. The vertical system, properly taught, eliminates 
this danger and is, from the hygienic standpoint, by far the 
most satisfactory method. In any case it is safe to say that 
no system of writing should be employed that does not permit 
the paper to be placed directly in front of the child and not at 
an angle. The pupil should sit erect with his feet flat on the 
floor and his head well elevated. 

(3) The minimum size of type that can be used without 

1 Burgerstein and Netolitzky, pp. 602-642; Shaw, chs. ix and x. 

2 With a little training in the use of the Snellen test types, the teacher 
may readily diagnose the more common defects of vision. 



344 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

injury to the normal eye has been determined by Cohn to be 
1.5 mm. in height and 0.25 mm. in breadth for the smallest n, 
and the length of the longest line should not exceed 10 cm. (4 
inches). For the first school year, Shaw^ recommends type 
not smaller than 2.6 mm. in height for the smallest n, with a 
" leading " of 4.5 mm. For the third year the height should 
be not less than 2 mm., with 4 mm. leading ; for the fifth year, 
1-8 mm. in height and ^.6 mm. leading. No school books, he 
maintains, should have type smaller than i .6 mm. in height nor 
leading closer than 3 mm. 

(4) Slates are unhygienic for at least two reasons : (a) the 
unclean habits that they promote; and (3) the lack of a 
sharp contrast between the pencil mark and the background. 
Blackboards should be dead black and unglazed, and the 
crayon should be soft enough to make a clear, heavy stroke. 
Shaw states that blackboard letters for the older pupils should 
be not less than 7 mm. in height and much larger for the 
younger pupils. 

(/) Cheerfulness as a Factor in the Educative Process. 
That a maximal degree of efficiency in any line of work 
is inconsistent with gloom and depression is not only a 
common verdict of general experience, but a logical in- 
ference from scientific principles. It is a well-established 
law of psychology^ that a state of mind which is pre- 
dominantly "pleasant" in its affective coloring is always 
accompanied by certain well-defined physiological phe- 
nomena: (i) an increase in the volume of the body, due 
to a distention of the capillaries running underneath the 
skin; (2) deeper breathing; (3) increased rate of pulse 

^ Shaw, op. cit., pp. 175 ff. 

^ Cf. E. B. Titchener: Outline of Psychology, p. 112. 



HYGIENE OF THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 345 

beat; and (4) increased muscular energy. A state of 
mind which is "unpleasantly" toned, on the other hand, 
is accompanied by bodily phenomena of the opposite 
character: decrease in bodily volume, lighter breathing, 
decreased rate of pulse beat, and decreased muscular 
energy. 

The relation of these factors to eflficiency is obvious. 
Hope and buoyancy simply mean, other things equal, 
a favorable condition for good work of any sort, while 
gloom and depression must, by the same token, form a 
heavy handicap in any line of endeavor. The old prov- 
erb, "Nothing succeeds like success," is thus seen to 
be, Uke so many other proverbs, a profound psychologi- 
cal law. The glow of satisfaction that comes from the 
consciousness of work well done sets free the energy that 
can be concentrated upon the new and more difficult 
task, thus multiplying the chances for a fresh triumph. 
And the sickening sense of failure will similarly choke 
up the channels of energy and multiply the chances for 
a second defeat. The man who, in the face of this handi- 
cap, can pluck success out of failure and victory out of 
defeat is the rarest of heroes. 

It is needless to say that cheerfulness and encourage- 
ment should be the keynotes of instruction. This does 
not mean that the teacher must "coquette for the good 
will of the child," or "tickle his vanity with praises and 
prizes," or that scamped work should be tolerated, or 
that there is no place in the educative process for the 



346 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

pain economy and the unquestioned, uncomplaining per- 
formance of disagreeable tasks. It does mean, however, 
that honest, efficient work should be candidly and hon- 
estly recognized ; that criticism of all kinds should be 
positive rather than negative, constructive rather than 
destructive ; and above all that petty and querulous fault- 
finding and the sarcasm and ridicule that are worse than 
blows have no legitimate function in the school. 

4. (2) Hygienic Habits and Ideals. In the process of 
readjustment involved in the transition from a primitive 
to a civilized mode of Hfe, the instinctive or impulsive 
reactions which are adapted to pre-social conditions must 
be modified or replaced by reactions designed to further 
social ends. Some of these reactions will function chiefly 
in preserving health and bodily well-being amid the 
changes incident to the general readjustment. Thus the 
habits of correct posture, graceful carriage, exercise, 
cleanliness, moderation, are ultimately hygienic habits, 
and the ideals through which they are generalized are 
hygienic ideals, — beauty, grace, health, chastity, temper- 
ance, love of outdoor life. These hygienic habits and 
ideals might be called the balance wheels of civilization; 
it is through their operation that man has so far escaped 
annihilation at the hands of the very agencies that have 
lifted him up. 

There is no sterner duty laid upon the teacher than 
the development of these habits and ideals. A large pub- 
lic school is a fertile ground for implanting the seeds of 



HYGIENE OF THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 34/ 

disease and vice. The mind of the child at any time 
after the eighth year is predisposed to impulses that are 
vulgar and degrading. Some of these reactions may be 
"natural" enough: they are not always to be looked 
upon as abnormaHties or perversions ; but under the 
conditions of modem life they are none the less disas- 
trous, and it is precisely at this point that some form of 
education or external guidance becomes essential to the 
salvation of the race. If the dictum, "Follow nature," 
is ever fallacious, it certainly is here, for here nature is 
working at cross purposes, pitting instincts and impulses 
so evenly against one another that the composition of 
forces, if left to the operation of natural law, could hardly 
fail to equal zero in practically every case. 

5. In dealing with children between the ages of eight- 
and twelve there is little room for freedom or liberty. 
Ceaseless vigilance is here the price of success, and this 
vigilance must extend to every nook and cranny of the 
child's nature. Uncleanliness of all sorts grows with the ' 
growth. Filth breeds filth, both mentally and materially. 
The germs must be nipped in the bud if infection is to 
be prevented. The general treatment must be aseptic, 
the specific treatment antiseptic. 

This lays a heavy task of police duty upon the teacher — 
and a task that he cannot escape. It is disagreeable to make 
daily, perhaps sometimes hourly, inspections of closets and 
vaults and fence corners in order to cull out the inevitable in- 
decencies — but nothing else will do it. It seems a poor use 



348 THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 

of valuable time to force one's adult presence upon the play- 
ground at recess ; but when five hundred or even thirty little 
children need no supervision, the very significance of infancy as 
a period of necessary dependence will have passed away. 

6. In dealing with adolescents, as was suggested in 
a former chapter, specific methods must be employed, 
differing radically from those used in the pre-adolescent 
period. Arbitrary rulings and summary punishments 
must give place to reason; and the hygienic habits that 
have been formed largely by mechanical processes in the 
earher years must now be generalized and justified on 
the basis of ideals. 

Adolescence brings with it the source of the gravest 
dangers to health and morals in the coming into function 
of the sex instinct. The post-pubertal years are, indeed, 
the crucial point in the readjustment from primitive to 
social conditions. The pushing forward of sexual ma- 
turity is enough in itself to occasion serious consequences ; 
but when, with sexual maturity accomplished, the normal 
function of reproduction is still further postponed, through 
social forces, for fifteen or even twenty years, a condition 
is created the gravity of which we are just beginning to 
appreciate. It is impossible to estimate what proportion 
of the disease, the vice, and the misery of modem life 
owe their inception to the perverted and abnormal func- 
tionings of the sex instinct during youth ; but every new 
investigation in this forbidding field yields sufficient data 
to cause increased alarm. In the light of what knowl- 



HYGIENE OF THE EDUCATIVE PROCESS 349 

edge we now possess — and this is little enough — one is 
almost bound to adopt a pessimistic attitude toward the 
destiny of the race; to admit, unwillingly though one 
may, that civihzation is indeed playing a desperate game, 
and that the very forces that have hfted man so far above 
the brute may yet operate to annihilate his species. 

In all this murky atmosphere of pessimism and doubt 
there is but one faint beacon light of hope, — the school. 
Civihzation is indissolubly bound up in the ever length- 
ening period of immaturity. Education, which is the 
guardian of civihzation, owes its efficiency to the same 
factor. In return for this priceless advantage, education 
must in some way make up for nature's lack of foresight. 
It can do this in part by replacing ignorance and mys- 
tery with knowledge, in part by insuring an environment 
that is free from suggestions of evil, in part by segregat- 
ing the sexes, in part by developing the highest ideals of 
purity and honor. At best the task is Herculean ; but if 
education fails in this one supreme test, it needs no 
prophet's vision to perceive that human progress, for 
which education stands sponsor, will sooner or later end 
in a cul-de-sac. 



INDEX 

[Authorities cited are printed in SMALL CAPITALS.] 



Abstraction, in conceptual judg- 
ments, 137 f.; in practical judg- 
ment, 132 ; formal step of, 287, 
296 ff. 

Accessory muscles, in apperception, 
85 f. 

Acquired characteristics, inheritance 
of, 6 («.), 10 ff. 

Adjustment, modification of, 3, 
7 (».). 23, 40, 41, 85, 162, 335 ff.; 
as purpose of mind, 66. 

Adjustments, inherited, 4 ff. 

Adolescence, 186, 195 ff., 348 f. 

iEsthesiometer, in fatigue tests, 341. 

Aggregate ideas, 148, 156, 299. 

Aim, of education, 40 ff. ; statement 
of, 287, 291 ff.; function of, 291 f. 

Allen, G., 255. 

Allen, Jessie, 31. 

Analysis, in conceptual judgment, 
140 ; in formal steps, 286, 293 ff.; 
in practical judgment, 132 ; in 
solution of aggregate, 148. 

Animal psychology, 4 ff., 31 («.), 

134 f- 

Anticipatory deduction, 160, 308 ff'. 

Aphasia, sensory, 87 f. 

Apperception, 66 ff. ; and attention, 
104 ff. ; degrees of, 84 ff. ; in drill 
lesson, 330 f. ; fundamental law 
of, 67 ; and imitation, 243 ff. ; 
and objective teaching, 248 ; sys- 
tems of, 87 ff., 105. 

Application, formal step of, 287, 
301 8. 



Apraxia, 75 f., 85. 

Aristotle, 55 f. 

Arithmetic, 37, 112, 149, 204, 226^ 
231, 302, 310, 328, 330. 

Art, in education, 280 ff. 

Assignment, 293, 517 ff. 

Association systems, 76; step of, 286. 

Attention, 96 ff. ; active, 99 ff., 188, 
192 ; and apperception, 104 ff. ; 
and conception, 141 ; function 
of, 97 ; and judgment, 132, 140; 
passive, 97 ff., 188, 192; and re- 
call, 172 ; secondary passive, lOO. 

Automatic movement, 116. 

Bagley, W. C, 143, 146. 
Baldwin, J. M., 6, 9, 18, 69, 74, 75, 

115, 126, 142,239,240. 
Barbarism, education in stage of, 27. 
Barker, L. F., 21, 76. 
Barnes, Earl, 79. 

Mary S., 193. 
Bawden, H. H., io6u 
Bethe, a., 7. 
Binet, a., 79. 

Biology, and educational theory, 3 ff. 
Book instruction, varieties of, 275 ff. 
Books, as media of instruction, 

267 ff., 316 ff. 
Botany, 314. 
Brain, structural changes in, 17 f., 

190 ; localization of function, 77 f. 
Bread-and-butter, aim of education, 

44 ff. 
Brooks, W. K., 13, 19, 98. 



35» 



352 



INDEX 



Brown, H. F., 238. 
Bryan, E. B., hi. 

BURGERSTEIN, L., 338, 339, 34O, 34I, 

342, 343- 
BuRK, F., Ill, 187,198. 
Burnet, E. G., 30. 

Calkins, Mary W., 169. 
Chadwick, E., 342. 
Chamberlain, A. F., 15, 30, 32, 

79- 

Chase, Frances, 208. 

Cheerfulness in school work, 344 ff. 

Child psychology, 79, 90, 135, 185 ff.; 
study, 185 ff. 

China, education in, 33. 

Civilization, and effort, 18 ff., 108 ; 
relation to education, 93, 349. 

Classics, education in, 48, 221. 

Qeanliness, habits of, 208, 21 1; 
ideals of, 213 ff. 

Clearness, formal step of, 285. 

Cohn, M., 344. 

Collecting instinct, II 2. 

Collins, J., 76, 87. 

Common sense, and theory, 162. 

Comparison, formal step of, 287, 
296 ff.; in practical judgment, 132. 

Concentration, of studies, 179 ff. 

Concepts, and apperceptive systems, 
144 ; collective, 141 ; as con- 
densed experiences, 138, 140 ff., 
152 ; in education, 256 ff., 284 ff.; 
individual, 142. 

Concept building, in education, 146 ff. 

Concrete experience, in judgment, 
128 ff.; recall of, 169 ff. 

Condensation, of experiences, 137 ff. 

Condensed experience, in judgment, 
128 ff.; recall of, 172 ff. 

Conservatism, of education, 50. 

Cope, E. D., ii, 12. 

Correlation, of studies, I79ff. 

Croswell, III. 

Culture aim of education, 48 ff. 



Daniels, A. H., 27. 

Darwin, C, 6, 12, 255. 

Data, in deductive lesson, 308, 313. 

Davidson, T., 26, 27, 28. 

Deductive development lesson, 
3058.; anticipatory, 308 ff.; ex- 
planatory, 308, 312 ff.; limitations 
of, 315- 

Deductive reasoning, 159 ff. 

De Garmo, C, 106, 181, 271, 287, 
288, 324, 325. 

Dejerine, 87. 

Deniker, J., 27. 

Dependence, importance of, in in- 
fancy, 30. 

Depression, effect on education, 345 f. 

Des Bancels, J. L., 175. 

Development, of child, 184 ff. ; 
transition period of, 187; forma- 
tive period of, 190 ff.; adolescent 
period of, 195 ff. 

Development, harmonious, as edu- 
cational aim, 50 ff. 

Development lesson, inductive, 
284 ff.; deductive, 285, 305 ff. 

Development method, 256 ff. 

Devices, in language training, 245 ff.; 
in drill lesson, 330 f. 

De Vries, H., 7. 

Dewey, J., 65, 106. 

Diagrams, as media of instruction* 
278 ff. 

Dictation method, in fatigue tesU, 
340 f. 

Dictionaries, children's, 79. 

Direct method, 256 ff. 

Discipline, formal, 203 ff. 

Dodge, R., 98, 268. 

Donaldson, H. H., 187, 190. 

Drawing, 244. 

Drawings, as media of instructioi^ 
278 ff. 

Drill, in habit forming, 122. 

Drill lessons, 328 ff. 

DUTTON, S. T,, 65. 



INDEX 



353 



Eaton, S. W., 245. 

Ebbinghaus, H., 174. 

Educability of lower animals, 3 ff.; 
of man, 8 fF. 

Education, as artificial process, 335 ff. ; 

. conservatism of, 50 ; definition 
of, 22; empirical aim of, 41 ; ethi- 
cal aim of, 40 ff. ; formal vs. infor- 
mal, 23 ff.; and infancy, 30 ff.; 
new vs. old, 184 ff.; physical, 
51 f.; reduced to lowest terms, 
I ff. 

Educational values, 225 ff. 

Eliot, George, 122. 

Emotional transmission, media of, 
280 ff. 

Emotions, importance of, in ideals, 
222 f. 

England, education in, 34. 

Environment, influence of, 16 ff., 
35 ; and heredity, 35 ff. ; and 
school studies, 36 ff. 

Ephrussi, p., 175. 

Erdmann, B., 268. 

Ergograph, as test of fatigue, 341. 

Ethical end of education, 40 ff. 

Evolution, factors in, 10 ff.; and in- 
fancy, 30 ff.; and morality, 59 f.; 
of school, 25 ff. 

Examinations, 333 ff. 

Excursions, school, 249 f. 

Experience, definition of, 81; con- 
densation of, 94, 137. 

Explanatory deduction, 160, 308, 
312 ff. 

Fact, definition of, 166. 

Facts, in educative process, 258 f. 

False syntax, 126. 

Family, as agency of education, 25 ff. 

Fatigue, 340 ff. 

FisKE, John, 30. 

FiTZPATRiCK, F. A., 184. 

Flechsig, Paul, 78. 

Focalization, conditions of, 96 11. 



Formal education, 25 ff. 

Formal steps of instruction, 285 fF. 

Formative period of development, 
190 ff.; hygiene of, 347 f. 

Frequency, as a factor in recall, 169, 
171. 

Fundamental muscles, in appercep- 
tion, 85 f. 

Gardens, school, 253. 
Generalist, definition of, 167. 
Generalization, definition of, 166; 

formal step of, 287, 299 ff.; pupil's 

right of, 260. 
Genesis, of instinct, 5 ff., 98 ; of 

judgment, 133 ff. 
Genetic psychology, 79, 134 ff., 145, 

i84ff'. 
Geography, 37, 148 f., 176, 227 f., 

230, 231, 232, 246, 249 ff., 276, 

294. 306, 307. 308 U 3I3» 318, 

332. 
George, H. B., 231. 
Germany, education in, 35, 319. 
Gore, W. C., 145. 
Grairmiar, inf., 124, 126, 230, 289, 

290, 292, 294, 297 f., 301, 302, 312. 
Graphic representation, as medium 

of education, 278 ff.; in develop- 
ment lesson, 294 ff. 
Groos, Karl, 179. 
Guess-work, in deduction, 311. 
Guilds, as educative agencies, 27. 
Gulick, III. 

Habit, 115 ff. 

Habit-building, 122 ff., 328 ff.; and 
imitation, 241. 

Habits, breaking up of, 124 ff. ; 
function of, 121 ff.; generalized, 
203 ff. ; hygienic, 346 ff. ; and 
ideals, 212 ff. ; marginal, 117 ff. ; 
moral, 120 ff.; pedagogy of, 122 ff. 

Hall, G. S., 187, 190, 193, 194, 19S1 
196, 197, 199, 245, 268, 270, 322. 



354 



INDEX 



Harmonious development, as end 

of education, 50 if. 
Hekbart, J, F., 40, 55 ff., 86, 106, 

285, 286. 
Heredity, and environment, 35 f., 

90 f. ; and instinct, 5 ff. ; social, 

g{.; theories of, 10 ff. 
Hinsdale, B. A., 316, 322. 
History, 37, 176, 180, 231, 276 f. 
HOBHOUSE, L. T., 70, 93, 131, 134, 

141, 162, 175. 
Home, education of, 25 ff. 
HOWERTH, I. W., 38. 
HuEY, E, B., 268. 
Hutchinson, Woods, 126. 
Huxley, T. H., 255, 311. 
Hygiene, of educative process, 335 ff. 
Hygienic habits, 346 ff. ; ideals, 

346 ff. 
Hylan, J. P., 96. 

Idea, and image, 145 f. 

Ideals, development of, 218 ff. ; emo- 
tional clement in, 223 ; in family 
life, 219 f.; and habits, 212 f.; 
hygienic, 346 ff. ; and judgment, 
223 ; pedagogy of, 223 ff. ; psy- 
chology of, 222 f. ; as race charac- 
teristics, 219 ; in school life, 220. 

Ideas, focal and marginal, 96 f. 

Ideo-motor habits, ii8f. 

Image, and idea, 145 f. 

Imagery, in condensed experiences, 
144 ff. ; in practical judgment, 

131 ff- 

Images, recall of, 169 ff.; in imita- 
tion, 241 ff. 

Imitation, and apperception, 243 ff. ; 
in education, iii, 239 ff. ; and 
habit, 241 ff. ; law of, 240. 

Incidental learning, 123 f. 

Indirect method, 256 ff. 

Indolence, psychology of, 103 f. 

Induction, 157 ff. 

Inductive development lesson. 



284 ff. ; history of, 285 ff. ; limited 
field of, 304 ; as an organic unity, 
303 ; as a time unity, 299. 

Industry, habits of, 120, 210. 

Infancy, significance of, 29 ff. 

Inference, in deductive lesson, 309, 
313 ; pupil's right of, 260. 

Informal education, 23 ff. 

Instinct, genesis of, 5 ff., 98. 

Instinctive adjustments, 4ff., 83, 97. 

Instincts, collecting, 113, 198; of 
curiosity, 112, 166, 198; of day- 
dreaming, 245 ; of emulation, 113, 
198 ; of imitation, iii, 198, 329 ff.; 
of inquisitiveness, 233 f. ; puzzle, 
198, 307 ; of property, 198. 

Instruction, book, 267 ff. ; and de- 
velopment, 256 ff. ; hygiene of, 
338 ff. ; media of, 265 ff. ; method 
of, 256 ff. ; oral, 267 ff. ; 317 ff. 

Intelligence, and motor organization, 

77. 
Interest, 92, 106 ff., 197, 331. 

James, W., 67, 81 f., 106, 191. 

Japan, education in, 34 f. 

Jennings, H. S., 7. 

JosT, 178. 

Judgment, 115, 128 ff., 212 ff". 

Judgments, conceptual, 131, 136 ff., 
188; definition of, 130; in edu- 
cative process, 256 ff., 284 ff. ; 
formulation of, 299 f. ; hypotheti- 
cal, 166; and ideals, 223; im- 
personal, 156; intuitive, 155 f.; 
practical, 131 ff., 188, 241 ff. ; uni> 
versal, 166. 

Kant, I., 177. 
Keller, C, 341, 342. 
Kemsies, F., 341. 
Kinaesthetic sensations, 67 fF. 
King, I., 74, 11 1, 191, 193, 240, 242. 
Kline, L. W., iii, 192. 
Knowledge, as aim of education. 



INDEX 



355 



46 ff.; as race experience, 21; as 
result of adjustment, 36 ff. 
KUELFE, O., 96, 

Laboratory, pedagogy of, 253 f. 

Lambrecht, Ln,iAN, 208. 

Language, and concept, 140 f.; essen- 
tial to educative process, 21 f.; as 
medium of instruction, 266 ff. 

Language study, 240 f., 245 ff., 267. 

Lantern lessons, 246. 

Latin, persistence of in schools, 48. 

Laurie, S. S., 26, 270. 

Law, definition of, 166. 

Lav, W. a., 75, 80. 

Laziness, psychology of, 103 f. 

Lecture method, 270 ff. 

Leisure, importance of in infancy, 31. 

Leland, Ella P., 309. 

Lesson, deductive development, 
305 ff.; definition of, 284; induc- 
tive development, 284 ff.; recita- 
tion, 322 ff.; review, 331 ff.; study, 
316 ff.; types of, 284. 

Lesson unities, 303. 

Lighting, of schoolrooms, 339. 

LiNDLEY, E. H., 198, 330. 

Lipmann, O., 175, 178. 

Literature, conventional value of, 
231; ideal value of, 224; senti- 
mental value of, 236 ff. 

Literature, teaching of, 282. 

LoBSiEN, M., 175. 

Macaulay, T. B., 124. 
McLennan, S. F., 155, 156. 
McMuRRY, C. A., 106, 181, 288, 291, 

293. 301- 
McMuRRV, F. M., 288, 291, 293, 301. 
Manual training, iii, 243, 244. 
Margin, of consciousness, 105 f., 

106 («.), 145. 
Marking, in recitations, 326. 
Marshall, H. R., 106, 129. 
Meaning, dependent oq use, 67 ; and 



conscious margin, 105 f.; theory 
of, 66 ff. 

Meanings, agreement of in language, 
266. 

Memoriter methods, 149, 177 ff. 

Memory, 169 ff.; experiments on, 
I74f. 

Method, direct vs. indirect, 256 ff.; 
Herbart's step of, 286 ; independ- 
ent of aim of education, 42 f. 

Migration, as factor in evolution, 16. 

Models, in literary composition, 
245 f. ; as media of instruction, 
278 ff. 

Monograph, definition of, 167. 

Monroe, J. P., 258. 

Moral education, in transition period, 
189 f.; in formative period, 194, 

347 f. ; in adolescent period, 199 f., 

348 f. 

Moral habits, i2ofF., 346 ff. 

Morality, Aristotle's conception of, 
55; as end of education, 55 ff.; 
evolutionary conception of, 57 f.; 
Herbart's conception of, 57; so- 
cial nature of, 58 f. 

Mosso, A., 341. 

Museums, as educative agencies, 
251 f.; school, 252 f. 

Nature study, 289 f., 292, 297, 301. 
Needs, as determining apperception, 

82, 83 ff. 
Neo-Darwinism, 10 ff. 
Neo-Lamarckism, 10 ff. 
Netolitzkv, a., 338, 339, 340, 341, 

342, 343. 
Newsholme, a., 338. 

Objective teaching, 247 ff. 
Observation, ^training of, 53 f., 210, 

215 f. 
Oral instruction, 267 ff. 
Oral transmission, in early culture, 

28. 



356 



INDEX 



Organization of educative forces, 
2ff., 185 ff. 

Organization of experience, 161 ff.; 
as affecting recall, 173; in educa- 
tion, 173 f., 202, 332, 333. 

O'Shea, M. v., 42, 65, 106, 135, 
209, 215, 271. 

Outlines, topical, 321, 332 f. 

Parker, F. W., 181. 

Pathology, evidence from, 75. 

Pearl, R., 7. 

Pentschew, C, 175. 

Personal equation, 92. 

Pestalozzi, J. F., 35. 

Philosophy, definition of, 163 ; in 

education, 182 f. ; and practice, 

163 f. 
Pictures, as media of instruction, 

278 ff. 
Plasticity, of infancy, 30 ff. 
Play, psychology of, loi f. 
Pleasure, remote vs. immediate, 93, 

107. 
Powell, J. W., 15. 
Practical judgment, 131 ff., 188, 

241 ff. 
Practice and theory, 162 ff. 
Preparation, formal step of, 287, 

288 ff. 
Presentation, formal step of, 287, 

293 ff. 
Primacy, as factor in recall, 170. 
Primary schools, iiof., 185, 187 ff. 
Principle, definition of, 166. 
Principles, in deductive lesson, 308, 

313- 
Puzzle instinct, 198, 307. 
Pyramidal tracts, 77. 

Question-and-answer method, 270 ff., 

2S9. 
Qucjtion - and - answer recitation, 

323 «• 
Questioning, art of, 324 £f. 



Questions, examination, 334. 
Questions, study, 320 f. 

Reading, 318 f., 328, 329 f.; hygiene 
of, 343 f- 

Reasoning, aggregate idea in, 156 ; 
deductive, 157 f. ; definition of, 
152 f.; in education, 158 f., 161, 
189, 193; inductive, 157 f.; logi- 
cal, 157; power of, 214 f. 

Recall, conditioned by develop- 
ment, 201 ff. ; factors of, 169 ff. ; 
in development lesson, 296. 

Recency, as factor of recall, 169. 

Recitation lesson, 322 ff. 

Recitation periods, length of, 342 f. 

Reflex action, genesis of, 5 ff.; na- 
ture of, 4. 

Rein, W., 181, 287, 288, 304. 

Relation, in practical judgment, 132 ; 
in conceptual judgment, 140. 

Repetition, as factor of recall, 169, 
171, 173, 177, 178 f., 201 f., 296, 

333- 
Review lesson, 331 ff. 
Rhetoric, 124. 
Rhythms, of fatigue, 342 ; of growth, 

186 ff". 
RiBOT, T., 73, 104. 
Romanes, G. J., 6. 
Ross, Margaret, 208. 
Rote learning, 177 f., 316 f. 
Rousseau, J. J., 258. 
RowE, S. H., 342. 
RuEDiGER, W. C, 187. 

Savagery, education in stage of, 

25 ff. 
School, definition of, 32 ; divisions 

of, 185 f . ; evolution of, 25 ff. ; 

function of, 23 ff. 
School excursions, 249 ff.; gardens, 

253 ; museums, 252. 
School hygiene, 335 ff. 
Science, definition of, 161 ; as core 



INDEX 



357 



of concentration, l8i ; as inter- 
preting environment, 37. 

Science teaching, 215 f., 253 ff., 314. 

Seat work, 319 ff. 

Secondary education, 49, 195 ff., 224, 
229, 348. 

Selection, natural, 5 ff., 98. 

Self, concept of, 143 f. ; marginal 
nature of, 106 («.). 

Self-sacrifice, and morality, 60. 

Sense training, 52 f. 

Sensori-motor habits, 1 1 7 f. 

Sentiment, definition of, 235. 

Sentimental values, 233 ff. 

Sex, instincts of, 83 f., 348 f. 

Shaw Botanic Gardens, 252. 

Shaw, E. R., 338, 339, 340, 343, 344. 

Shuyten, M. C, 342. 

SlEGERT, 191. 

Sikorsky, 341. 

Smell, development of, 52 f. 

Smith, D. E., 149. 

Smith, Theodate L., 245. 

Snellen test types, 343 (w.). 

Social efficiency, as aim of educa- 
tion, 58 ff. 

Social heredity, 10, 18. 

Socratic method, 270 ff. 

Source methods, 275 ff. 

Spelling, 123 f., 231, 328, 329, 
330. 

Spencer, H., 12, 34, 255, 262. 

Squire, Carrie R., 208. 

Stanley, H. M., 146. 

Steffens, Lottie, 174. 

Stout, G, T., 74, 89, 97, 106, 117, 
142, 146. 

Strain sensations, 67 ff., 145. 

Study lessons, 316 ff. 

Study periods, length of, 343. 

Sully, J., in. 

Swift, E. S., 172. 

Syllogism, 159. 

Symbolism, 145, 193, 199. 

Symonds, J. A., 238. 



Synthesis, in conceptual judgment, 

140 ; in practical judgment, 132 ; 

of sensations, 67 ff. 
System, in education, i ff. ; Herbart's 

step of, 286 ; in philosophy, 163; 

in science, 161 f. 
Systematist, definition of, 167. 

Talleyrand, 267. 

Tarde, G., 126. 

Taylor, hi. 

Teaching vs. Telling, 260 f , 306 f. 

Technical vs. classical education, 
221 f. 

Technical terms, value of, 300. 

Teljatnik, 341, 342. 

Temperament, 90 f. 

Temperature, of schoolroom, 339. 

Text-book, definition of, 167 ; func- 
tion of, 263 f. ; in development 
lesson, 295 ; in study lesson, 316 ff. 

Theory, and practice, 162 ff.; and 
common sense, 162 ; and educa- 
tion, 165. 

Thompson, Helen B., 130, 154. 

Thorndike, E. L., 134, 193, 206, 
209. 

Titchener, E. B., 91, 96, 97, 117, 
118, 135, J46, 153, 157, 224, 235, 

344- 

Topical recitation, 321 f., 326 f., 332 f. 

Transmission, of acquired character- 
istics, 10 ff.; social, 10, 18. 

Trial and error, method of, 242 f. 

Tribe, as agency of education, 26. 

Truancy, curve of, 192, 197. 

Tylor, E. B., 28. 

Unity, of consciousness, 67 ff. 

Use, as factor in apperception, 73 ; 

in children's definitions, 79 f.; 

represented by strain sen'itions, 

76. 
Use inheritance, II. 
Utilitarian values, 225 ff. 



358 



INDEX 



Values, educational, 225 ff. 
Variation, organic, 13, 15 ; in man, 

15 ff. 
Ventilation, of schoolroom, 339. 
Verbalism, 266 f., 316 ff. 
Verification, in deductive lesson, 309, 

313- 
Vividness, in education, 171, 177, 
201 ; as factor of recall, 169, 170 f. 

Wagner, L., 341. 
Ward, L. F., 164. 
Watscjn, J. B., 7, 31, 
Weismann, a., 12. 



Wendell, B., 184. 

Will, as active attention, 103 f. 

Wolff, Fannie E., 79. 

Wood, Edith E., 13. 

WooDWORTH, R. S., 206. 

Words, and concepts, 140 f., 145 ; 

recall of, 173, 
Work, in education, 108 f, ; and 

fatigue, 341 ff. ; psychology of, 

loi ff. 
Writing, 328, 329; hygiene of, 343 f. 
Wqndt, W., 78, io6. 

ZiLLER, T., 180, 287. 



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